


The Sock Index

by distantstarlight



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, All kinds of sex, Arguing, Awkward Flirting, BAMFs, Best Friends, Costume Parties & Masquerades, Dancing, Declarations Of Love, Developing Relationship, Dom!John, Dysfunctional Family, Evidence, Fetish Clothing, Friends to Lovers, Headaches & Migraines, Hint of Mystrade, Humor, Illnesses, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Johnlock - Freeform, Johnlock Roulette, Leather, Light BDSM, M/M, Mild Kink, Minor Character Death, Naughty, PTSD John, Panic Attacks, Pants, Possessive Behavior, Protective Sherlock, Reference to Spousal Abuse, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Showers, Smoking, Socks, The Author Regrets Nothing, They're Totally Doing It, sub!Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-05
Updated: 2014-04-28
Packaged: 2018-01-14 16:54:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 30
Words: 129,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1273975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/distantstarlight/pseuds/distantstarlight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John and Sherlock are still best friends despite everything that happened. They're living back at 221 B like they used to but something a bit odd is going on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Small Indulgences

**Author's Note:**

> It starts off sweet...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Sherlock live at 221 B Baker Street. Everything is back to normal with the long-time friends....or is it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to have a bit of a laugh.

 

John was making breakfast the first time he noticed. Sherlock had been doing something in the other room but when he deduced the meal was ready Sherlock came into the kitchen and sat at the table. His long legs stretched out and poked under John’s chair. As the doctor set their dinner plates down he booted Sherlock’s shoe to bump it out of the way enough for him to pull his chair back. The chair leg caught on the hem of Sherlock’s pants and then John saw them.

The socks.

They weren’t ordinary dress socks, the kind one might expect Sherlock Holmes to wear. As the World’s Only Consulting Detective Sherlock kept his appearance immaculate. He wore fine suits and dramatic colors that enhanced the alabaster of his skin and brought out the many hues of his jeweled eyes. His hair was wild with curls that always looked soft and shining; sometimes they slid forward and graced his forehead with their devilish charm. His ties were always tasteful and when the outfit required it Sherlock’s taste in cufflinks was impeccable.

His socks.

How had John never noticed Sherlock’s socks before? Well it was probably because John had assiduously trained himself to NOT stare at Sherlock. If he hadn’t John was pretty sure he’d be trailing after Sherlock even more than he already did, just gazing at the impossible beauty. John focused on the detective’s feet. The socks were a brilliant hue of pinks and purples, rings of bright color that climbed up out of Sherlock’ s black leather shoes and over the elegant lines of his ankles. John realized he’d stopped moving so he made himself sit down and just looked at his best friend.

It had been five years since they’d met and they’d remained fast friends nearly the whole time, if anything growing closer together after Sherlock’s return to life. John knew for a fact that Sherlock had not worn socks like this before that. As the only person at 221 B Baker Street that knew what the washer and dryer were for John was entirely positive that Sherlock only ever wore finely made black socks, the kind probably loomed into life in secret Tibetan temples by ancient lines of weavers who had been making socks for people like the Holmes’ for generations. These looked like socks you’d get at an artist’s market, “Nice socks.” John said, his eyebrow raised. Digging into his breakfast John waited to see if Sherlock would deign to notice John was there and that he had in fact addressed him.

Sherlock sipped his tea calmly and began to eat as he read a report he’d set beside his plate. So far John had failed to register so the small blond man just finished his meal and drank his tea in silence. Sherlock got lost in thought easily these days and had thrown himself back into The Work with almost fanatical energy.

“Well I’m off to work. Ta!” John dumped his dirty dishes in the sink knowing very well they’d still be there when he got home from the clinic. Sherlock didn’t move except to stretch his legs out under John’s chair once again. John shook his head after looking at the vibrant socks and left.

The next time John noticed was when they were at the Yard. It was two weeks later and they were hiding in an alley. They always seemed to be hiding in alleys. John had his gun ready and Sherlock was crouched in front of him, doing his part which was staying out of John’s way. John was trying to ignore the gorgeous smell of the detective. Had Sherlock always smelled like this? For some reason John had found himself noticing more and more things about his best friend. As the tall man kneeled on one leg beside John his trouser leg rode up and revealed his socks. These were a brilliant green and had small chemistry symbols stitched into them. John almost lost focus but just then the man they had been waiting for walked past the entrance to the alley. John was off and running before he had a chance to comment on Sherlock’s socks and after the fight and the nearly broken nose John forgot to ask.

A week or so later they were at Angelo’s for dinner. Both men were laughing about a case Sherlock had just solved, the entire reveal well peppered with insults about Anderson’s hair-cut and the continuing state of Donovan’s knees. John loved to make Sherlock laugh, he never saw the man laugh the same way with anyone else. The normally contained face broke out in a wrinkle heavy but boyish smile and his laughter was deep and infectious, prompting John to make more quips just to hear that sound again. Sherlock had eaten heartily for once and was leaning back with a glass of wine, his leg crossed easily over the other. Today his socks were bright yellow, almost like an old painting with clouds and scenery worked in. John blinked a couple of times and decided to just ask, “Sherlock, what’s with your socks? You’ve been wearing all these strange ones.”

“Embracing the spectrum of colors we have available to us isn’t strange John. There is more to life than wearing boring socks all the time. I’m rebuilding my index.” Sherlock sipped his wine and looked at John who was astounded.

The sock index was practically a religion for Sherlock. He kept all his socks rigorously organized in a special dresser made up of dozens of tiny cubby holes, one for each pair. Sherlock had his socks organized not by color because he normally wore only black, but by texture, age, wear history, endurance and a whole host of other factors that only Sherlock understood. John had learned early on in their friendship to never touch the sock index. He was allowed to launder the socks but never to put them away. John was astonished and had to ask, “You’re re-building the index! Why?”

At this Sherlock merely shrugged and stood up. Dinner was clearly over. As usual Angelo ignored them when John tried to pay so he settled for leaving a generous tip behind instead. Sherlock swept out without a word and John hurried after him. Sherlock’s mobile chirped and once again John had no time to pursue the conversation because they were busy chasing bad guys.

Over the days and weeks John became accustomed to the socks. Sherlock had manifested a startling assortment of them. John began to enjoy each new reveal, looking forward to his best friend’s new socks. For John seeing them for the first time was a treat. He had no idea where Sherlock got them from. John had never in his life tried to find brightly colored socks. He himself still wore regular black or white socks, all of them indifferently stuffed into a single not-special drawer of his dresser.

John thought about that. Maybe he needed to spruce up his wardrobe. He wasn’t extremely interested in collecting bright socks like Sherlock. That might seem a bit strange for two men who lived together to be wearing the same sorts of silly socks. John was a bit nervous about branching out his wardrobe. He’d always lived on a very tight budget though, since Sherlock had returned from the dead, nearly died again, saved John from Mary, killed Magnusson and then thwarted Moriarty their casework had left John doing quite well. He could afford a small indulgence but what?

John thought about it for a few days. He’d eliminated socks right away so what did that leave…his trousers? No, he worked in the public; John couldn’t run about London wearing outrageous trousers. No one would take him seriously…his jumpers? No, John would never change his jumpers. He was extremely fond of the ones he had and had built up his own collection over his entire life. All of them were sentimental and he had enough to last him the rest of his days. No jumper changing then.

He thought some more…his shirts? Maybe…he did wear jumpers a lot so maybe John could begin experimenting with brighter shirts or bolder patterns. Still, the jumpers came off occasionally and then where would John be? He crossed shirts off his mental list. The doctor couldn’t wear crazy shirts either. That really left only one thing.

John’s pants.

It seemed like the perfect solution. No one saw his pants but his dates and any night John went out on the pull he didn’t necessarily need to wear anything strange but for other times. Well. The sky was really the limit, wasn’t it? John exclusively did the laundry so there was no chance of Sherlock finding out about his theoretical pants. Once John had gone away for a two week training conference and had come home to Baker Street to discover Sherlock had worn every single item of clothing he’d owned until he had nothing left but his robe because John had not been there to wash his clothes. It hadn’t even occurred to the genius to send his laundry to the cleaners. That was also John’s job.

Pants it was. Once John made up his mind his next task was to actually find some. He thought about browsing online and realized he’d be discovered the very first day. Sherlock had ways of finding out about where John liked to spend his time on the internet. Even clearing his browser history didn’t help. John resolved to just manually search for his pants. London was stuffed to the gills with stores he’d never visited and the London phone book was sitting unused on the shelf. John pulled it out and flipped through the directory until he came to a relevant section. Noting the addresses and details in his mobile John put the phone book back and left.

John started himself off gently. After a few days of lunch time shopping during work he found a pair of blue cotton briefs and bought them. They were plain, just simple y-fronts but in a powder blue John wouldn’t wear anywhere else on his body. They felt interesting and hugged him intimately when he wore them. It was a bit of an adjustment but after a few tries John felt prepared to buy another one.

This pair was bright green, similar in hue to the first pair of green socks John had seen Sherlock wear. It took John a couple of days to build up the courage to wear them. When he did he almost blushed as if people could see through his trousers and spot his virulent green pants. No one noticed.

After the bright green pants John began to get daring. He searched open air markets as well as designer boutiques. Eventually he had a rainbow selection of brilliantly colored pants all secretly tucked away in his dresser. One pair at a time he’d replaced his old plain white pants until there were only a handful left. He never wore them.

John discovered that men’s pants came in a startling array of styles. Up until he’d begun his pants odyssey John had somehow innocently believed that you either wore boxers or briefs. It was patently not so. They came in every cut imaginable, every shade possible and even with special features built in.

John avoided anything like that. There was no way in hell John was going to fit his cock down a special sock so he could wear animal face underwear! Ass-less pants were also out. Thongs! No way. He wasn’t going to spend a day at work with some piece of fabric chaffing bits of him he’d rather not be rubbed raw. Even eliminating those it still left a galaxy of choices and now John was hooked.

John had to empty another drawer to accommodate his new pants selections. One day he decided he had enough that he needed to sort them out somehow so he divided them by color. That’s when he realized he had no red pants. Not one. It was the only color he did not have. Well.

John went shopping, this time with purpose. He was going to find red pants, the perfect pair of red pants and he was going to buy them. There were so many. There were thousands of red pants and most of them were ridiculous. Apparently being the color of love was an open invitation to pants makers around the world to include all kinds of things that John hated. Satin? Uncomfortable. Lace? On men’s underwear? Well, maybe for some men but not John. Buttons? Why would you need buttons on your pants? Flaps, also impractical. Zippers? Those were just stupid. Leather….well…..no. No leather pants.

John finally found them, the perfect pair of red y-front pants in the perfect shade of red. They were cotton; just the right size and they had a white elastic band about the waist stitched in red to go with the white seams everywhere else. They were exactly what John wanted. He bought them immediately and went back to work.

John wore his red pants the very next day. He and Sherlock got called on a case first thing in the morning and by the afternoon both men were tearing through the alleys once again, this time chasing a woman who had murdered her boyfriend. It didn’t help that she was a long distance runner and had a head start on them. John pounded down the street after Sherlock, following him blindly, trusting Sherlock to know which short-cuts to take to head her off. They succeeded.

Wrestling a reluctant woman to the ground and overpowering her might have made John feel uncomfortable except that she kneed him in the groin before stabbing him in the thigh with a pair of broken scissors. Why did she even have those? John gasped and grunted but didn’t let her go, pinning her down with his whole extremely pained body until Sherlock managed to restrain her. John used his mobile and called Lestrade with a voice thick with pain. The Yarders arrived a minute or two later and she was taken away. John needed a minute.

He looked at his thigh. It was abraded but not cut. Her scissors hadn’t made it through the fabric of his trousers but it had been enough to scratch John enough to bleed. Sherlock snapped at Lestrade, shouting the proofs at the DI before hustling John back to 221 B and into the bathroom.

They had a med kit there. It was huge because the two of them got hurt more often than any group of people they knew. They had more cuts, scrapes, bullet wounds, knife wounds and kitchen utensil wounds between the two of them than Lestrade’s entire division combined. Sherlock had become a competent field medic even though John stitched him up more than John required to be stitched.

Without asking it took Sherlock only two seconds to undo John’s trousers and yank them down to his knees. Sherlock crouched down and inspected the bloody scratch carefully before cleaning it with antiseptic and pressing a large bandage over it. John didn’t say a word about his bright red pants and Sherlock didn’t seem to have noticed. When the bandage was secured John just stood up and fixed his trousers, “Thanks.” Sherlock nodded and put their kit away.

Sherlock looked like he was about to leave but he paused at the door and looked over his shoulder. His deep voice was soft, “I’m glad you’re okay John.” Sherlock strode away and disappeared into his room for the rest of the night. John was bemused but made himself a small meal and relaxed in front of the telly with a strategically placed ice-pack on his groin. That night when he fell asleep he had a strange dream of being lost in a massive pile of colorful socks and pants, digging around to search for something he wanted very badly.

When he woke John found he was rock hard and aching. For some reason when he remembered the impressions of his dream John couldn’t stop himself from reaching into his brilliant red pants and stroking himself quietly to orgasm. His crotch still ached from the woman’s knee but it didn’t stop the tidal wave of pleasure that took John away when his orgasm peaked. John’s last rational thought was of Sherlock’s sock covered ankles.

The next few days saw John missing a lot of work. They had cases building up so shift after shift was canceled as John passed his clinic work onto other doctors. There were plenty of doctors but only one Consulting Detective and only one Consulting Detective’s blogger. Their skills were needed and John comforted himself by remembering all the lives he and Sherlock saved together. It was ironic that after never getting sick at work that once he stopped John fell ill.

They’d saved a small boy after he had been kidnapped by his mother’s unstable sister. The child was hungry and cold when they located him and had managed to catch a rather impressive cold that he then sneezed all over John. Despite the disinfecting wipes Sherlock produced from one of the many pockets on his Belstaff John found himself stuffy and feverish three days later.

John was a terrible patient. He fought with Sherlock about everything. He didn’t want his cold medication. He refused to use the hot water bottle Sherlock prepared for him. He stubbornly refused to eat the chicken soup Mrs. Hudson had prepared. Instead he grumped, “You should leave Sherlock. You’re just going to get sick.”

“I don’t catch cold John.” John lay miserably on the couch and thought about it. Sherlock had never once gotten a cold for as long as John had known him. He’d been sick plenty of other ways but never a cold. That just made John grouchier and he spilled his soup accidentally over himself. Tutting, Sherlock whisked away the blanket that had been on John and chivvied him into the shower to clean up.

When John got out he found his robe hanging behind the bathroom door waiting for him. It was warm. He had no idea how Sherlock would have heated it. When John went to his room he found fresh pants and pajamas laid out for him as well as socks and slippers. Sherlock was taking care of John. Dressing John went back downstairs to find a fresh bowl of soup waiting for him as well as a hot cup of tea but no detective. Sherlock had left the building.

For the next three days John found himself almost alone at 221 B. He knew Sherlock was around because he kept finding little gifts of food with notes stuck to them in Sherlock’s handwriting, things like, “Garlic has been used as a health aid for centuries” or “ginger will settle your stomach” or the one John enjoyed the most “the garlic made you smell bad, I’m sorry John you’ll just have to get healthy without it”. John had actually smiled at that one.

There were other things. If John took a shower he would find his bed freshly remade and new clothes laid out and waiting for John. The fridge had been filled with easy things to eat and Sherlock stopped smoking in the flat. John was becoming accustomed to the pampering when on the third day a thought occurred to him. Sherlock had been laying out clothes for him INCLUDING PANTS. Sherlock had seen John’s pants collection.

John turned as red as his newest pair. He thought back quickly. He had been seriously ill for three days. That was three pairs of pants Sherlock had gotten out. John pulled open his dresser and confirmed what he already knew. Sherlock had gone through both dressers and had seen all of John’s fantastically colored new pants. Oh god.

John got dressed as slowly as he could. He could hear Sherlock returning from wherever he had been. He looked himself over. He was wearing vivid purple pants today. They went with the tiny details that patterned his pajamas. Sherlock had coordinated John’s pajamas with John’s pants. John blushed all over again and groaned as well. “John? Are you alright?”

Shit! Sherlock was coming up the stairs. John pulled on his robe and for some reason double knotted it. Now his purple pants were completely hidden as if Sherlock could see through John’s pajamas and didn’t already know what color they were, “I’m fine. Just feeling a bit woozy still.” Sherlock appeared at John’s door looking concerned. “Seriously, I’m better.”

“Two more days until you are recuperated enough though John. Come along. Lunch is ready.” Sherlock had lunch ready? Was John feverish now? Sherlock walked away and John followed. Sure enough two take-away containers were waiting on the kitchen table. The smells were incredible. “Chinese John, all your favorites.”

“You are a good, good man.” moaned John who was suddenly ravenous. He didn’t see the expression on Sherlock’s face when he moaned or when he spoke. If he had he might have not had the courage to sit at the table with his flatmate. It wasn’t until he was finished devouring his meal and was sitting back enjoying his tea that John noticed Sherlock’s socks. They were purple, the exact same shade as John’s pants.

John didn’t say anything and neither did Sherlock. After both men were finished eating Sherlock made John go sit in front of the telly with a fresh cup of tea and the injunction to not move, “I’m not dying Sherlock.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes and just started flicking through the channels, “John the crime rate in London is due to skyrocket soon. There’s a definite pattern to it, that may I remind you, has NOTHING to do with moon phases but happens nonetheless. I’ll need you to be healthy in order to assist me. This is forward planning, not a death watch.”

Of course, John should have known there was a motive attached to all the care he’d received. He felt a kind of disappointment knife through him when he realized Sherlock was just being practical and not looking after John because he really cared, “Right. Okay. Fine. I’ll recuperate then.” He sat there silently for the rest of the day and said nothing.

Two days later and once again Sherlock and John were racing through London. This time someone had tried to gift their drug debt to a rich relative and had gotten caught in the middle of a rather violent confrontation between the person who wanted the debt paid and the person whom the debt had been blamed on. It had resulted in two dead bodies and another chase through the alleys. As they climbed a fire-escape John saw Sherlock’s socks inches from his eyes. They were a rather jolly shade of gumball yellow. Exactly the same shade as the pants John was wearing that day. What?

The next day John dressed carefully. Sherlock was in the shower when he went down to make breakfast and by the time it was done Sherlock was dressed and sitting at the table. John served them both and sat down, casually glancing at Sherlock’s socks. Today they were electric blue.

Just like John’s pants.

John was positive Sherlock didn’t have the time to sneak upstairs and examine his dresser to see which pair of pants John had used. Even if he had what could it mean if Sherlock was deliberately choosing to wear socks that matched John’s pants? Deciding it must be coincidence John didn’t mention it.

The next day John wore green pants. Sherlock had matching green socks. The day after that John wore pants with two different shades of blue stripes on them. Sherlock wore striped socks in the same shade. For two whole weeks John tracked Sherlock’s sock colors, the man always managing to wear the EXACT shade as whatever pants John chose for the day. They never mentioned it and this was clearly more than coincidence.

One day Sherlock got hurt and John nearly choked the man who did it to death. The case they were on wasn’t even a four but the teenager in question had been abusing performance enhancing drugs and had decided to allow his youthful aggression to dictate his actions. He’d had a crowbar too which he had used on Sherlock several times before John caught up with them. John barreled into the youth who had just raised his weapon to bash in Sherlock’s head. John went insane. It took Lestrade and Donovan both to get him off the young man and John was screaming at him the entire time.

John and Sherlock were admitted to the hospital even though they both complained that they were fine. No one believed them because John was bleeding profusely from two wounds he hadn’t even noticed and Sherlock was too dazed for once to even mask his discomfort. Their incessant complaining at least earned them a room together since no one wanted to share with either of them. That was fine and for the rest of the night both men rested easy knowing they could simply glance over to make sure the other was alright.

They were just getting ready to dress the next day when Mycroft arrived. John and Sherlock were standing there holding their neatly folded clothes, just readying themselves to get to draw their privacy curtains so they could change. Mycroft looked at both of them and John realized his pants were on top of the pile and they were his red ones. A quick glance at Sherlock’s clothes noted Sherlock’s matching red socks. Mycroft was raising his eye brow when Sherlock said in an irritated voice, “They got our things mixed.” and handed John his red socks so John was forced to hand over his black ones without a word. Mycroft excused himself to the hallway. Shutting themselves away both John and Sherlock were dressed in only a couple of minutes, both men wearing the other’s socks.

“Matching underthings John? I had no idea you were so extravagant.” said Mycroft. As always his words were filled with unspoken insinuations so blatant he might as well have just accused them outright of shagging in their hospital beds.

“It’s the only thrill I can afford Mycroft. Unlike certain members of the British Government I don’t have a private membership at an exclusive whorehouse.” The Diogenes Club was a gentleman’s club but not that kind. Nonetheless Mycroft didn’t say a word in his club’s defense and John was pretty sure that he wasn’t exactly wrong about what sorts of treatment members could expect to keep them happy. In fact John’s answer seemed to make the normally elegant man look a bit apologetic, especially since he had come so close to making fun of John’s lack of wealth.

Sherlock shifted in his seat and stared at his brother, “Things not going well with your current lover Mycroft?” Now Mycroft looked displeased and John knew Sherlock had deduced correctly. “Let me guess, another working class man, limited time, a string of broken relationships, you’ve decided he needs you to look after him but he doesn’t appreciate how you smother him with your constant surveillance and interference with his personal and work life.”

Mycroft was scowling now and John kept his smile off his face. His looked at Sherlock and though they both remained expressionless they still shared a look that said they’d both enjoyed Mycroft’s discomfiture. John thought about Sherlock’s description and then he thought about whom that might be. Sherlock was watching John intently and actually grinned when John’s head whipped around, “You’re dating Greg Lestrade! I didn’t know his last divorce went through!”

After five years with Sherlock John damn well knew he’d hit the nail on the head. Mycroft looked almost furious that both of them had figured it out. He struggled for a second before he gained control over his face and became expressionless but it was far too late. Sherlock looked proud and said nothing. “It has and I’m not.”

“Not anymore you mean.” pressed John. “What did you do?” Mycroft was staring out the window but John could see his grip on his umbrella handle become a fight to the death.

“Nothing of significance.” said Mycroft in a dead voice. John was on a roll because he understood everything Mycroft had not said.

“So you’ve been shagging him when you’ve had the time, ignoring him when you got busy and then left him behind whenever he wasn’t upper class enough for you, probably in public and probably more than once. Greg put up with that for a minute and then kicked you to the curb.” John listed everything off and Mycroft denied none of it. His jaw tensed and his hands gripped a little harder. Sherlock still said nothing. “Maybe if you did something to make him feel like he was actually valued and not disposable you might get him back. Just because you control your feelings doesn’t mean everyone does that. Greg is a decent man. Make him feel like you actually like him Mycroft, not like you’re just getting off on him. He’s got pride and he’s not a rent-boy.”

John wasn’t sure why he was giving Mycroft dating advice. He was on good terms with Lestrade and didn’t think the DI deserved to be used like a common prostitute just because Mycroft was aloof. John wouldn’t tolerate it. He glanced at the ginger man. Mycroft looked pensively out the window and Sherlock had drawn himself into his Mind Palace pose. John wondered what he’d done in a past life to deserve a double helping of Holmes silence and sighed, entertaining himself by thinking about Sherlock’s lovely ankles and how his skin seemed so pale when seen in a pair of vibrant socks.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you madamegoeth for the absolute perfect pic of his feet


	2. Little Games

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Somehow or other John and Sherlock have found an amusement to share. They never speak of it but the game is on.

Weeks later when the pair ended up in hospital again their circumstances were reversed. This time John had been injured by a man who stabbed John with his murdered grandmother’s knitting needles. One of them nearly pierced John’s lung and the other was sunk shallowly high up on John’s thigh. The injuries weren’t severe but the humiliation hurt nearly as bad as having them removed. When Sherlock had entered the room in time to see them sink into John he had snapped and attacked the young man, beating him unconscious in a few swift blows before calling an ambulance and Lestrade.

This time Mycroft was there when the nurse unceremoniously stripped off John’s sheet to tend to his wound. John was grateful he was wearing dark blue boxers but he saw Mycroft deliberately look at Sherlock who wasn’t paying attention to his brother and so missed the opportunity to tug down his trouser legs to cover his dark blue matching socks. “Did you wear John’s socks for luck?”

“My clothes are dirty. I stole them this morning.” Sherlock was on his mobile and he looked bored. John just concentrated on how much everything hurt to cover his expressions at Sherlock’s blatant lie.

“And you managed to get the pair he was going to wear today?” Mycroft looked pointedly at John’s socked feet. He was wearing his normal black socks.

“He’d set them on the bed. I grabbed them while he was showering.” lied Sherlock again. Mycroft’s expression aggravated John who really was in a bit of pain right then.

“Mycroft, why do you give a fuck if Sherlock steals my socks, he steals them all the time!” there, future excuse in play. John allowed the pain to make him sound extra testy. “Did you come here to see Sherlock did you come to see Greg because Greg is standing right behind you.”

John had never had the pleasure of seeing the look of shocked surprise on Mycroft’s face before. The tall man turned slowly and looked. Lestrade was standing in the doorway and he looked angry. In an icy voice Greg said, “I’m here to take their statement so if you’ll excuse me Mr. Holmes.” Well that didn’t sound encouraging. Still, John had already given his advice and Mycroft clearly had not taken it.

Greg just walked in and began to speak to Sherlock. His back was tense and he was deliberately not looking at Mycroft who didn’t leave. When Lestrade was done with Sherlock he went to John and repeated his questions. John finished up by asking Greg out for a pint later. He was almost but not quite flirtatious sounding. Since the DI’s back was to his ex-lover John saw the twinkle in Greg’s eye that let him know Greg had clued into John’s gambit immediately. His answer was a little more cheerful than it needed to be, “Sounds like fun John. We can make an evening of it, same place?”

They had a local. Greg and John actually got on really well and had for years. John allowed himself to look shyly happy and Greg had to bite his lip hard not to laugh. “That would be great, the regular time?” Greg nodded. They’d both meet at their local just in time for the dart tourney they normally tried. It happened every week and they were terrible at it. 

“Great. See you later John.” Greg lingered just long enough for John to get his laugh face put away and then left, completely ignoring Mycroft. John watched Lestrade leave as if he didn’t want to miss a second of seeing the man but inside he was howling with laughter.

“Have you been seeing Greg for long?” the civil servant bit out. Mycroft’s voice was completely controlled but John had known the Holmes brothers long enough to read his blank face as if Mycroft had fallen to the floor sobbing angst filled tears. John shrugged. Sherlock was looking at the doorway where the DI was no longer in view and the detective looked almost savage for an instant. John had no time to wonder though because Mycroft was glaring at the doctor, waiting for his answer.

“A few times, nothing serious though. We amuse ourselves. I like being with Greg.” John said everything without saying anything. Mycroft was listening to the nuance in every word John spoke but John was not lying. He had seen Greg a few times recently. They did amuse each other. John did enjoy being with Greg. That’s not all Mycroft heard but was that John’s fault? Turning on his heel Mycroft left in a temper.

When he was gone Sherlock burst out laughing. “John you are incredible! I’ve never seen anyone play Mycroft like that! You didn’t say or do one untrue thing. That was amazing!” Sherlock was blatantly admiring John’s trick. John dropped his act and looked somberly at his best friend. Those nights at the local had been filled with more than darts and pints.

John sounded bitter when he explained what he thought Sherlock should already have known, “Greg thought they were in love Sherlock. He thought he had something special with Mycroft. He was humiliated one night when your brother left him behind at a restaurant to go off with his posh friends instead. Mycroft was seeing them to their car and they all just walked out and left Greg at the table and never returned. Greg had to pay their tab and it took his entire paycheque. Mycroft never apologized and Greg hasn’t seen or heard from him for weeks since then. He’s earned the right to be angry with Mycroft.”

Sherlock was the one scowling now, “Not that I don’t believe this happened John but I find it hard to imagine Mycroft leaving a bill for someone else to pay. He takes excessive pleasure in throwing his money around. Still, obviously it did happen so I suppose this is that why you’re seeing Lestrade tonight.” Well wasn’t this interesting. Sherlock actually almost sounded jealous.

“We have a lot in common. We both know what it feels like to be left on the curb like we’re trash.” John just left his comment hanging there. Sherlock was silent. He’d abandoned John more than once in a number of situations and John had never once appreciated it.

When he looked over to the detective John was surprised to see Sherlock actually looking chagrined, “I’m sorry John. I am no better a man than my brother. I hope you have an enjoyable evening with Lestrade. Greg. I’m sure you’ll have fun.” 

Fun was a word Sherlock had barely understood before he’d met John. The first time they’d spent an evening doing nothing but joking around and laughing Sherlock had seemed astounded. They laughed easily together, Sherlock’s dry wit and John’s gallows humor a perfect match for the other. John was further surprised to discover that he didn’t like the upset look on his friend’s face. Just two seconds of witnessing it made John’s insides twist uncomfortably, “You should come with us Sherlock. We can be on the same team.” John didn’t know why he was letting Sherlock know his plans with Greg weren’t what they’d seemed.

“Why would you want me to accompany you on your date with Lestrade?” Sherlock sounded almost vicious and John actually burst out laughing. How had John managed to actually make Mycroft and Sherlock believe he and Greg were actually going on a date tonight? John found it highly amusing to see that both the vaunted Holmes brothers had been misled by one plain and normally-not-nearly-clever-enough ex-army doctor.

“Give me a break Sherlock! Can you imagine me actually dating Lestrade? We play darts in a tourney. It’s on tonight. We’ve been playing for weeks now. Come on. You’re a good player; I’ve seen you throw darts before. I’m temporarily out of commission. You can throw for me.” John enjoyed the smile that broke out on Sherlock’s face, the just-for-John one.

“I see. You were making Mycroft jealous to help Lestrade.” John was interested to hear the hopeful note in Sherlock’s comment. Sherlock was feeling better and right away John was as well.

“If he got jealous it had nothing to do with me,” said John with a straight face, “If he doesn’t know Greg well enough to know we play a darts tourney every week then he’s not the master spy he makes himself out to not-be. Besides, if he hasn’t troubled himself to contact Greg until now then he’s an even bigger arse than you and I thought.”

Sherlock also didn’t know that but then Sherlock was under John’s strict injunction to not stalk him when he wasn’t at 221 B or John was positive Sherlock would know each and every breath John took whenever he wasn’t actually at home like he used to. They’d set up a lot of ground rules when Sherlock came back, things that John had put up with in the past no longer occurred. Once it was all sorted John had moved back to 221 B and Sherlock who currently looked thoughtful, “Very well John. What will you do if Mycroft arrives unannounced?”

John just shrugged, “I’ll leave that up to Greg. I don’t want Mycroft. Greg does.” John wasn’t sure what would happen, he’d need to play it by ear. He wasn't extremely interested in taking this joke too far, I mean, sure Greg was a good friend but faking any kind of romantic physicality would be incredibly awkward. 

“Why did you lie about my socks?” John wasn’t expecting Sherlock to just bring up their unspoken game. John had to think about his answer. “You never lie.”

“I guess I just felt Mycroft didn’t need to know everything about us. Yes I do lie. You taught me how, remember? Greg is a good man Sherlock. Your brother is an arse. Sure you’ve left me behind at crime scenes but you’ve never really made me feel like I was something cheap to be used and discarded. That’s what Mycroft did to Greg and it isn’t right. Greg is a decent and hardworking person. He’s got a tough job, a shitty track record when it comes to his relationships and he can’t handle being publically shamed in front of people that run London. Greg’s a public servant Sherlock. Some of those people were Greg’s superiors! Imagine if that had been me?”

“I’m afraid I go through a great deal of effort to ignore my brother so I apologise for not noticing the negative aspects of their personal lives, especially since I didn’t know they were dating at all! Please never allude to even the IDEA of you dating my brother or I shall be forced to kill myself for real. Also, are you saying we’re in some kind of relationship with one another John? You’ve just compared us to Mycroft and Greg.” now it was John’s turn to feel surprise. Sherlock’s question had made John’s stomach lurch a bit once more and this time it wasn’t exactly unpleasant.

“Does that make you Mycroft then Sherlock? How would we manage being in a relationship? You’ve never once wanted to date someone.” John realized he wasn’t objecting to the actual idea of dating Sherlock, he was just challenging the man to define what it was they were doing. John knew he would date Sherlock in a hot minute if he could be sure it wouldn’t destroy their friendship.

“I hope I’m nothing like my brother John. You’re my best friend. I hope I haven’t done anything to disabuse you of that at least. I haven’t left you behind since I returned.” that was true. John didn’t really want to think about Sherlock’s return. It was far easier for John to just pretend all that time hadn’t happened, that he hadn’t watched his best friend kill himself, that he hadn’t spent two years believing Sherlock was dead and that things were the same as normal at 221 B Baker Street.

John also realized that just as he had not denied that they were in a relationship Sherlock had not admitted that he wasn’t interested in one. Neither man wanted to discuss it further so silently they agreed to just let it be. “Right, we can meet Greg at seven.” Sherlock nodded in agreement.

A couple of hours later they were released. John’s chest was killing him but Sherlock was good about dealing with the doors and paying for the cab so John wasn’t unduly troubled. In fact John had never been so coddled by the lanky detective. Sherlock fussed over John and made him recline on the sofa while Sherlock got everything ready for dinner. After they ate Sherlock went to John’s room, “What do you want to wear tonight?” Sherlock called from upstairs. He was laying out John’s clothes again. John grinned.

“You choose. I want to look kissable just in case your brother shows up and I need to do an emergency flirt.” John was laughing away as he joked but he could hear Sherlock muttering to himself in John’s room.

“How kissable? Shag worthy or first date?” Sherlock was clearly treating this like a case situation where they were going undercover. John could work with that, they’d done it before for all kinds of reasons.

“Can’t be first date but I don’t want to come off like I’m a sure thing. If anyone wants me they have to work for it.” John was enjoying this and laughed to himself again. This might actually be sort of fun. Hopefully Mycroft did show up. He wondered if he and Sherlock would be playing their own game tonight and suddenly was very interested to find out what colored pants Sherlock had chosen for him tonight.

John was very comfortable on the sofa and dozed off with a grin on his face. He woke up a while later when Sherlock gently laid his hand on John’s. John’s thumb automatically ran over Sherlock’s fingers tenderly as he rose from a deep sleep. With a gentle squeeze Sherlock let go, “It’s just after six John. If you want to go you have to get up now and get ready.” John was bleary and still tired but they’d made plans so he got up with a pained groan. Now that he’d rested a bit he was stiff and aching. Sherlock sat next to him now holding a tall glass of water and two paracetamols. While John took the pills and sipped his water down Sherlock gently rubbed his sore shoulders to loosen the sympathetically stressed muscles.

“Thanks.” Sherlock helped John stand up. He was feeling clumsy now but made it up the stairs. John laughed softly when he saw the pants laid out. They were a stunning pink; ones John had bought as a laugh and had never worn. Well if he was faking dating a man tonight, even if said man would NEVER see the color of John’s pants, then pink was the way to go. He put them on. When he got out front he saw a bright flash of pink at Sherlock’s ankles and John grinned.

The pub was crowded and people jostled them back and forth. After the first pained hiss John discovered himself being shepherded by one lanky Consulting Detective who got him to a table with no further pain. John was feeling pretty good by the time they sat. He’d gotten a lot of appreciative glances thanks to the outfit Sherlock had chosen, a smart shirt and jumper combo and the old jeans he’d worn until they were soft and buttery. Sherlock had even run a handful of product unexpectedly through John’s hair, taking mere seconds to style him before getting himself ready. Sherlock was sex on two legs as usual but John was long used to being outshone by his best friend.

Greg showed up not long after and he was sizzling in a pair of tight trousers and even tighter shirt. Lestrade looked sexy and a bit dangerous. He slid into the booth with John and Sherlock with a wry expression at John’s appearance. He and John looked at each other and burst out laughing, “Fucking Mycroft!” swore Greg with a smile.

John laughed again and patted Sherlock’s hand. “This one is going to play darts for me. Look, he prettied me up for you, just in case.”

“I appreciate it Sherlock. You done good. John, can I buy you a soda?” Greg winked flirtatiously at John who burst out laughing again and nodded. Sodas were free to those deemed to be designated drivers so Greg returned with a pint for himself, one for Sherlock and a tall glass of something fizzy for John. His pain medication was strong and he wouldn’t be drinking tonight, “Tourney starts in half an hour. Drink up boys.”

Sherlock was incredibly entertaining. John wondered why they’d never brought him out with them before. Sherlock pointed out who was hitting on whom, which men to avoid because of various personal issues and did a running commentary concerning the potential success of each attempted hookup based on people’s shoes. John’s wounded chest hurt from laughing so much and more than once Greg had to wipe laugh tears from his eyes as Sherlock’s voice stayed calm and factual. The tall man leaned in often to speak his deductions directly into John’s ear just loud enough for Greg to catch, all three men giggling like small boys.

The food was incredible at this pub and John was peckish. Sherlock kept his running commentary going, not mentioning how he pulled John’s plate in front of himself to quickly slice up everything into bite-sized pieces before pushing it back in front of John and handing him a fork. John picked out all the bits of mushroom he could find and Sherlock ate them off the edge of the plate, stealing a few of the crispier chips that John didn’t care for but that Sherlock preferred. Neither man noticed Greg’s grin as they ate off the same plate while they chatted.

“Which woman should I hit on?” asked John looking at the slim selection in front of him. Few women came to darts night. Those that were there seemed more interested in one another and the remainder seemed intent on getting giggly drunk as soon as possible. 

“None John, I’ll be taking you home tonight.” Sherlock sounded sure of himself, not caring how it sounded. John reached over and patted Sherlock’s hand before squeezing his forearm for a second.

“We live together. I’d hope you’d help me home.” said John, misunderstanding. He continued to look at the women in the bar and missed the sudden look Greg gave the expressionless Sherlock.

The tourney started so Greg and Sherlock took turns going over to throw. Sherlock was amazing. For the first time since the weekly tourney had begun it looked like Greg and John’s team might actually win for once. Sherlock looked completely natural with a dart in his hand and he scored high with every shot he took. The women began to flirt with their table in between rounds but Sherlock’s cold looks upon his return drove them back. John complained, “Hey, I might have wanted to chat with them!”

“You can’t pull anyone tonight John, your stiches won’t take it and I’ve already told you I will be the one taking you home this evening!” Sherlock sounded so definite that John just rolled his eyes and dropped it. Greg leaned forward, he clearly had something to say to Sherlock but the tall man suddenly looked away and said tightly, “My brother.”

Greg was instantly flustered. “What do I do?”

Sherlock smoothly slid a bit away from John and used his knee to push John just an inch or two closer to Greg, flicking a button under John’s chin open with disturbingly practiced ease, “Nothing. You won’t have to do a thing. Just be yourselves.”

Mycroft made his way through the crowd. No one had the temerity to jostle him and the crowds seemed to part smoothly to make room for him as he walked. Unmolested the blank faced man made it to their table. He stood and looked at all of them before turning to Lestrade and saying gently, “Gregory I require a few minutes of your time.”

“Not your dog Myc. Can’t just order me about.” Greg looked angry and John glared at Mycroft. Sherlock’s face was as blank as his brother’s. “I haven’t seen or heard from you in nearly five weeks. What could you possibly have to say to me now? If it’s work-related call my office and leave a message. If I have time I’ll get back to you sometime this week.”

Mycroft made no move to leave. He looked grim and Sherlock stared grimly at his brother, his eyes as hard as diamonds. Mycroft sighed softly as he understood that whatever he had to say he would have to say it in front of his little brother and his brother’s best friend, “You were supposed to get my message telling you I was abruptly taken out of the country on business. You were never meant to be left at that restaurant alone. I really was trying to come right back. Anthea discovered this while I was gone.”

Mycroft produced a piece of paper and slide a long financial report toward Greg who snapped it up to look at it. After a minute of reading Greg looked confused, “Is this saying what I think it’s saying?” 

Sherlock took the report and glanced at it. “It’s taken you this long brother? How does the country survive your incompetence?”

Mycroft nearly hissed at his brother and John was VERY surprised to hear the bitterness in Mycroft’s voice, “I am an INCREDIBLY busy man Sherlock! I can’t look at every detail as much as I would wish to. That night went from bad to worse in less time that it’s taking to explain to you that I was essentially kidnapped, taken out of the country and forced to attend a series of meetings until certain situations were dealt with! Since it was a locked room situation I had no way of learning what happened to Gregory until I returned two days ago! I have called several times but Gregory has not responded!” Now Mycroft sounded anguished and John was stunned.

“Wait. What? Will someone explain to the clueless one here? What happened at the restaurant exactly?” John’s pain meds were wearing off and he didn’t like Mycroft’s cologne. He shifted away a bit. Sherlock helped by moving away and making room for John to slide closer to him on the bench by lifting his arm out of the way so John could be as far from Mycroft as possible. Greg gave them a look but John was looking at Mycroft.

“That restaurant is closed now. The wait-staff had been stealing from customers by charging every single person the entire meal regardless of who originally paid. The clientele is such that no one noticed because everyone is wealthy enough to pick up the tab for a meal with friends. That means Gregory was presented with a false bill for a meal that I HAD ALREADY PAID FOR and I cannot apologise enough for everything. Gregory. Please.” Mycroft shocked both John and Sherlock by taking Greg’s hand gently in his, “I’m so sorry Gregory. I’ve tried to reach you, really I have. Anthea noticed the discrepancy. She’s reversed the charges and all your money has been returned. She shut the restaurant down and the people who were part of it have all been arrested. I’m sorry if the politics I am forced to deal with take me away, I am.”

The two men obviously had a lot to work through because Greg was looking reluctant, furious and hopeful all at the same time. John took Sherlock’s hand so the detective could help John ease out of the booth without banging his leg or twisting his torso too much. When he was safely on the floor John looked at Greg who nodded silently. Sherlock stood closely behind John, almost hovering as Mycroft waited for Greg’s response. “We can talk here. John, Sherlock. I’ll see you later.”

Sherlock bent his head down and almost whispered into John’s ear, “Come along John. I’ll take you home now.” John nodded and didn’t argue when Sherlock put his arm around John to gently guide him through the press of the crowd. The tourney wasn’t finished but John didn’t care if they forfeited tonight. John sighed deeply for Greg’s situation and let Sherlock take care of getting their taxi home.

When they got back to Baker Street Sherlock remained solicitous. He made John sit down on the sofa while the detective made tea for both of them. John was surprised. Sherlock surprised John further when he joined the smaller man on the sofa. “Mycroft is in love with Lestrade. He’ll do anything to sort this out. You won’t have to worry about Greg’s hurt feelings. When Mycroft does admit to making a mistake his apologies are as extravagant as everything else.”

John felt better when Sherlock reassured him. Normally the doctor didn’t let other people’s personal business become part of his friendships be something about Greg’s situation with Mycroft had really struck a chord with the small man. John was surprised when Sherlock reached over and squeezed John’s hand tight and hung on for a minute. “You’re a good man John Watson, a good friend.” Sherlock got up and disappeared into his room and John was left sitting there on the sofa feeling like he’d wanted more.

Two days later a much healthier John met up with Greg for drinks. Tonight John was wearing pants decorated with a rainbow of tiny polka dots. Sherlock’s feet had looked like they’d been dipped in candy sprinkles when John had finally left for the evening. The doctor was enjoying the constant sock/pants game and still had not figured out how Sherlock always managed to pick the exact correct pair or where he even got matching socks for John’s pants. The DI was smiling hugely and could not seem to stop. “The bastard asked me to move in with him.”

“Seriously? That’s pretty quick.” Greg shrugged, his happiness undented. John had to grin. When Greg was happy he had a grin like a shark, all teeth and barely restrained innuendo. 

“Don’t rain on my parade Watson. Why don’t you tell me what’s really going on with you and Sherlock?” Greg’s question made John freeze. “What’s this thing with socks that Mycroft keeps mentioning?”

“What do you mean? Nothing’s going on. Nothing ever goes on. Why do people keep asking us that?” Greg took a long drink off his beer as he listened to John bluster. Mycroft really needed to learn to keep his trap shut. Greg was about to ask another question when his mobile chirped. Reading it with a frown Greg looked at John. “Let me guess. It’s time to call Sherlock because we’ve got a case?”

It concluded rather quickly thanks to Sherlock’s lightning deductions. He analyzed the blood spatter in the room they were brought to. Some investigation outside the home where the crime had been committed led John to chase Sherlock down yet another filthy alley and another fight with the suspect, this one a middle-age weekend warrior in full tactical gear. Later on they were being interviewed by the press, the late victim a local TV personality that no one exactly missed but that everyone was interested in profiting off of now that he was gone. One particularly determined reported managed to get Sherlock trapped between two parked ambulances to ask his questions.

Sherlock looked uncomfortable was the man kept thrusting his microphone towards Sherlock’s face, stepping into his personal space. The reporter was almost touching the detective now. Sherlock clearly wanted to step away but there was nowhere to go. John didn’t think. He just stalked up menacingly and pushed himself between the reporter and Sherlock, glaring at the man with the camera until it lowered sheepishly to the ground. The reporter was irate and kept demanding an interview with just Sherlock. John felt Sherlock’s hand grip his shoulder, a confident note in the taller man’s voice, “No comment. Come along John.” and let John lead him away, Sherlock’s hand never moving from John’s shoulder.

It wasn’t until late that night as John was drifting off to sleep that he thought about what he had done. John wasn’t exactly sure why he had done it. There was something about seeing another man press himself so close to Sherlock that had driven the doctor spare. John couldn’t help but recall the instant rage that had bubbled forth, the willingness to hurt someone if they troubled his friend one second longer. He remembered the look on Sherlock’s face, that relief, the confidence in his voice as soon as John was within reach, how warm and natural it had felt to have Sherlock’s hand on John’s shoulder. The doctor drifted off to sleep thinking of the warmth of Sherlock’s fingers. As his dreams took over his conscious mind John dreamed of socks and pants and warm gentle hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See the little hints? Time to start picking your favorite "Let's Get It On" song. I think these boys are beginning to get ideas.


	3. The Goal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Sherlock are best friends, really they are. Even though that's true they don't always get along nicely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ravenwolf36 thanks for the encouragement to go with my initial song choice. I hope you are as amused as I was.

John and Sherlock were arguing. Both men were standing in the middle of their living room, all the furniture pushed out of the way and they were nearly screaming at one another. “I am taller, it should be me!” snarled Sherlock.

“It’s not going to be you so just stop trying!” shouted John. They glared at one another, both their bodies rigid and tense.

“I know what I’m doing and it would be easier!” Sherlock’s arrogance made John want to choke him.

“You’re not the only one who knows what to do! I am going to do it and there’s nothing you can do to change my mind. NOW SHERLOCK!” John was nearly shouting at the top of his voice. Both men glared hotly at one another. With pressed lips and a stiff back John lifted one hand and offered the other. 

Sherlock scowled fiercely but stepped close to John and dropped his hand on John’s shoulder and took John’s hand. Using a small remote in his hand John started the music again. “I don’t know why you think you need to lead just because you’re taller. I’ve been dancing like this since I was a kid.”

They moved back and forth across the living room, both men frowning ferociously at the other as John led and Sherlock followed. “The opportunity to infiltrate this club hinges on our ability to look natural John. Is there any way for you to release your death grip on my hand and act like you don’t want to dismember me?”

“I don’t know, is there any way you can stop looking at me like I’m some sort of unevolved troglodyte and admit that I’m a better dancer than you are based on the simple fact that I DANCE AND YOU DON’T?” They’d been practicing for hours now and their tempers had been getting worse with every stepped-on toe or missed cue. They had a single chance to audition for a very special club with a member that was very possibly the kingpin for a large number of criminal activities, “Why are they all gay clubs Sherlock? Don’t straight people commit crimes anymore?”

“No John. All straight people with the huge exception of YOU spend their time having straight sex. All the gay people have nothing better to do but dissolve society with our gayness and committing crimes is part of our secret credo.” John rolled his eyes and gritted his teeth. He was pretty sure Sherlock had been deliberately stepping on him for the last hour at least but both men had reached that stage in their anger where they would rather drop dead than give in first. It was going to be a long, long night. Their insults had grown more and more childish as well as personal as they got angrier and angrier with one another.

It had started simple, with John showing Sherlock a few basic steps. Sherlock then pointed out that he had read up on dancing and memorized all the step charts for a large selection of them. John had argued that theory and practice weren’t the same and there was no way Sherlock was going to convince the screening committee that he knew anything about dancing if he hadn’t even done it once.

Sherlock’s complete lack of grace enraged the taller man. He was supposed to be good, no, excellent at anything he tried but Sherlock started out with two left feet and had barely improved. John had danced with his sister since they were both young and had used his skills to woo many a pretty lady, his moves on the floor making up for his lack of height or stunning beauty. Sherlock could pull any gender he wanted simply by standing on the dance floor and pouting for a minute but that wouldn’t get them into the club.

Both men started when Sherlock’s phone chirped. With relief they let each other go while Sherlock checked his messages. “Molly has some mystery body parts. She’s asking if I want some hands.”

“Ask her if she has any spare right feet while you’re over there.” snapped John who went to the kitchen. He really needed some tea. Mrs. Hudson was out for the evening so Sherlock slammed the door hard and stomped his way out of the flat so John yelled, “Don’t fall over your clown feet if you can help it!”

“FUCK OFF JOHN!” shouted Sherlock from the street. John went to the window and both men flipped each other off before turning their backs to one another. When John looked again Sherlock was gone, either by cab or by mega-foot or even a magic carpet, John had no idea. He grouched around the kitchen while the kettle boiled and cursed his best friend for being a clumsy oaf who crushed their doctor’s feet with their enormous shoes.

When the tea was ready John inspected his toes. They were lightly bruised but okay. He took his shoes and socks off entirely and relaxed with his drink. The flat was a wreck. Since he had to move the furniture back anyway John pulled out the Hoover and began to clean. When he got to the stereo he turned it up as loud as he could and hit random.

It was relaxing but warm in the flat now. John stripped off his jumper and shirt, leaving only his white tee-shirt on. Piece at a time John vacuumed the chairs and sofa, got under the area carpet for some rather intense crumb removal and sang along with the array of funk and classic rock that was playing. He began singing under his breath as the old lyrics came back to him and he got into cleaning, all his frustrations leaving him one at a time as he focused on his chores.

John got a little louder as the heavier stuff came and went. He sang along with the cheesier parts of the love songs. He did his best on the Motown sounds but he was British and some things just didn’t mix well inside John Watson. Still, there was no one else here so why not give it a go, right? Tentatively John tried a bit of a slide with his voice. Not too bad. He tried it again and it felt more natural this time. One song after another John got bolder as he attempted everything from falsettos to full operatic wails for love.

By the time Marvin Gaye began singing “Let’s Get It On” John was in full voice, shamelessly crooning along and his voice throbbing and sexy the way it never normally was. The Hoover was a nice weight in his hand and John began moving, just a bit, along with the music, his hips beginning to sway as he cleaned. He was tranced out now, just cleaning mindlessly and letting all the stress go. He didn’t really know when he began to fully shake and groove but by the time Marvin was asking his baby to come on John’s body was bumping and grinding as he continued to clean, his voice ringing through the flat along with Mr. Gaye.

“John?” John jumped straight into the air with surprise as he heard Lestrade’s voice from the door. Crimson with embarrassment John turned to look and yes, Greg was standing in the doorway with, of course, Mycroft and Sherlock who was holding a plastic bag filled with human hands. Greg looked as embarrassed as John; Mycroft looked slightly appalled but Sherlock, Sherlock’s face was on lockdown. The man had zero expression. He stood there behind his brother and looked at John, saying nothing. “We were just heading out for dinner and came by to see if you and Sherlock wanted to eat.”

Poor Greg just stood there clearly trying to think of a way to extricate John from this moment. John decided the only way out was through so he ignored everything they had just seen him do and answered calmly, “Sounds great. I was just finished here anyway.” John turned the music right down and put the Hoover away. “Give me a couple of minutes to clean up. Sherlock, your hands better not get anywhere near my buns!”

To anyone else this might have sounded like a strange kind of flirtatious comment but since everyone knew Sherlock they all assumed correctly that John wasn’t referring to his own ass but rather the bag of rolls he had in the refrigerator. The long-standing feud over body-part-storage was one of the cornerstones of John and Sherlock’s friendship. Ten minutes later John was washed up and getting redressed. After a minute of thought he had changed his pants from the almost boring blue stripy ones he’d had on to the slightly more daring tie-dyed pair. When he went down to join everyone John glanced at Sherlock’s feet as he got into his coat.

How the fuck did the man do that? Sherlock clearly had changed his socks while John was upstairs because he was now wearing socks with colors that matched John’s pants, though, as tie-dyed was wont, the pattern was slightly different. John had been trying to figure out how Sherlock was doing it but he still hadn’t caught him watching and John was pretty sure Greg would mention it if Sherlock had somehow followed him upstairs to see what pants John was putting on.

Dinner was actually kind of alright though the restaurant Mycroft chose was so upper-crust it didn’t need to advertise. No one mentioned John dancing or singing, the food was pretty tasty, the alcohol was appropriately powerful and the conversation kept going. Greg and John were soon laughing at each other as they navigated their way through one posh course after another, making each other guess which utensil to use next. Sherlock was helping John cheat outrageously by subtly indicating which of his utensils he planned on using next and it was most of the meal before Greg caught on.

After dinner Mycroft wanted to take Greg dancing and Greg begged John to come along so John made Sherlock come with him. Sherlock scowled when John suggested that he might be a better dancer with a few under his belt. “I am perfectly able to handle my alcohol John Watson.”

“Sure, whatever Lefty.” Mycroft did the Holmes thing that he did and swept them into a high-end club that John had heard about but had never gotten into thanks to the aforementioned shortness and lack of beauty. It was filled with every sort of extravagant person imaginable and for the first time in public John felt overdressed. Mycroft had a private booth waiting so they sat down to have a drink before hitting the floor.

Greg was all smiles as he and Mycroft slipped off into the crowd. John had never seen Mycroft dance before and if he was lucky tonight he’d continue that fine tradition. Sherlock was examining the dancers with the same expression he used when he was deducing a crime scene. With a groan John realized Sherlock was learning how to dance by watching and memorizing, “That’s not how it works, you realize this by now.”

Sherlock ignored John who ordered a set of shots from the smiling waitress who passed. When she delivered them John gave one to Sherlock, “Toss it back. Wait one minute. Drink the next one. GO.” They began to drink at each other. John knew Sherlock was keeping track of the time and that he would be better than any stopwatch. Precisely sixty seconds later they were lifting another shot to their lips and tossing it back. Soon the table was littered with tiny empty glasses and John and Sherlock’s eyes were locked angrily on each other.

“Ready?” sneered Sherlock who’s cheeks were now faintly flushed with the drink. When John nodded Sherlock stood with deliberate grace and made his way to the dance floor. John took a deep calming breath to offset the burn of alcohol in his belly, put his anger away and followed.

They faced each other as the music slowed. Slowly they came together in the pose they had practiced and suddenly they were moving, John leading them both smoothly. Sherlock was copying his every move flawlessly so John decided to up the ante by tossing in the occasional twirl or hip thrust all of which Sherlock responded to easily and smoothly.

When the music picked up they broke apart and began to dance a little more normally with one another. Sherlock was still copying John’s moves almost flawlessly and John kept adding more and more subtle changes until both men were moving fluidly in time with one another. The music slowed again and this time Sherlock melted into John’s arms. John was suddenly aware of just how good Sherlock smelled and how well his long body fit against John’s.

So that’s how Sherlock wanted to play it was it? John took firm control of the dance and showed Sherlock exactly why he’d earned the nickname Three Continents Watson. They were getting strange looks from everyone around them but John didn’t care. He was tired of Sherlock always assuming he knew best when he simply did not! John took Sherlock around the floor, moving the man as he pleased, making Sherlock dance tightly against John no matter what. John knew all kinds of dances from all kinds of places. Their thighs remained close as John navigated them both through one song after another easily.

Sherlock was breathing harder. His fingers curled onto John’s shoulder and at his waist where he was hanging on tightly. John was still a little angry from earlier and he was feeling hot and flushed. He felt Sherlock’s breathing become erratic and then the tall man was pulling back. His eyes reflected the lights off the dance floor and a fine sheen of sweat was on his upper lip and forehead. “I have to use the bathroom.” Turning on his heel Sherlock left abruptly.

John went back to the table to wait. He ordered two tall glasses of icy drinks and sipped his while he watched the floor. From the raised table where he sat he realized he could see Sherlock coming out of the men’s room. As he made his way to the dance floor another man approached him. This man was tall, scarcely dressed and a gorgeous blond. He was smiling at Sherlock and Sherlock was smiling back. Even from this distance John could see they were chatting each other up.

Without making a conscious choice John found himself crossing the dance floor, shouldering his way past one couple after another without apology until he was standing right next to Sherlock. He stared at the big man but John was completely ignored by the stranger. Sherlock looked down at John and suddenly the tall man had his arm draped easily over the doctors’ shoulder, holding him tight, “John my love, this is Kirk. He’s been watching us dance. He’s with the club.”

The club? Sherlock must mean the club they were trying to get into. Instantly John was on the job. He smiled up in a moderately friendly way, giving the man a look that said ‘Hi, I’m friendly. Touch my man and I will end you.’ but with his words he just said, “John Watson. Pleased to meet you.” John tucked his arm around Sherlock’s waist, claiming him in front of Kirk the Gay Club Owner. Sherlock practically purred and began to toy with the hair behind John’s ear.

“Isn’t he darling? Just the cutest! My angels, my sweets, my burgeoning pleasures! You absolutely MUST come by this weekend. We’re having a MASQUERADE! It’s going to be fabulous, absolutely over the top! Sparkles and glitter my doves, heavy on the BDSM! Do you top or bottom John? You look like a top! Oh! Oh my god! You should come as a SOLDIER. Oh my god you would be so CUTE! Baby-doll you come as his PRISIONER. Oh my GOD I can just see it. Okay it all starts at 11 Saturday night. THINK BIG on the kink, don’t forget your masks my treasures. Go wild. Take a nap beforehand, we party all night long. OH MY GOD I’M SO EXCITED! ” apparently so! John had never seen a man as big as Kirk jumping up and down girlishly and fluttering his hands. He slipped a business card into John’s trousers by tucking it into the waistband before winking outrageously at both of them and leaving.

Sherlock ripped it out angrily and dropped his arm. “Well done John. He was thrilled at the rage. Apparently we sizzle on the floor. We won’t even need to do the audition now, Kirk liked what he saw.” John’s arm disappeared from Sherlock’s waist just as fast and both men were glaring at one another once again.

“How did I become your boyfriend?” demanded John. Sherlock had said nothing about them posing as boyfriends. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

“John if we went there separately one or both of us could end up tied to a rack somewhere being flogged publically. Together at least we can say no to some of the offers that are going to come our way. Our goal is to get into the back office, copy their hard-drive and leave. Simple. You can only get to the office through the club and you have to be invited to get into the club. We’ve been invited. Brace yourself.” Nothing Sherlock said calmed John down.

“So I’m stuck with a gigantic tit as my boyfriend AND I have to have glitter on? I can’t wait to cuff you, that’s all I’m saying.” Sherlock could spend the whole evening in cuffs for all John cared.

Sherlock drew himself up before leaning down and almost snarling in John’s face. “I will take care of the costumes JOHN; you won’t even need to wear your proper uniform. I’ll get us what we need. Clear your schedule for the next few days, my love. We’ve got work to do.” Sherlock spit the words ‘my love’ out like a curse and John’s lip curled up angrily. They were still mad at each other and now they had to pretend to be boyfriends at a gay nightclub to catch a thief.

“Bring it on kitten, Captain Watson is ready.” Sherlock paled and for a split second his eyes just burned. Turning on his heel Sherlock stalked away and John knew their evening was over. When they made it back to their table John just wanted to leave but Greg shook his shoulder with excitement.

“John! Look at the fucking stage!” there was a live group getting ready to play. “John, that’s my favorite band! Mycroft hired them to play tonight, just for me!” Greg was incredibly happy and excited. John looked at Mycroft who was smiling softly and watching Greg jump all over the place. The DI had aspirations of fame during his teens and had developed an enduring love for underground bands. 

The music started and it was loud and violent. Greg dragged Mycroft into the pit where John lost sight of them. He sat there and wondered if Greg would notice if John just went home. Sherlock was slumped in his chair, “John, I have a headache.” Well no wonder. They’d been drinking all night and Sherlock hadn’t even had a single glass of water then they’d danced hard for ages.

“Let’s go home. I’m tired anyway.” they collected their coats and Sherlock shot a text off to Mycroft telling him they’d left. The taxi ride home was silent. John kept shooting glances at Sherlock who kept his eyes closed and his head still. He really did have a headache and a bad one.

Once they got home John forgot all about being angry. Sherlock’s headaches were no laughing matter. If they caught it early enough they could keep it from turning into a migraine. John made Sherlock change into his pajamas while John got water, paracetamols and a small bottle of lightly scented massage oil. Sherlock was curled up on the bed, his hand pressed over his eyes. “Sit up slow and take these, okay?”

Sherlock did. His face was paler than ever and it looked like it hurt when he swallowed. John took the glass back and set it on the night table. “Off with the shirt, I’ll do your neck and shoulders.” Sherlock’s fingers were fumbling so John unbuttoned the top for him and helped Sherlock take it off. The tall man was moving clumsily now. John worried.

Sherlock’s voice was thick and slurred with discomfort, “It hurts Jawn.” Sherlock lay face down on the bed and John knelt beside him. Drizzling a small amount of oil on his hands John warmed it before beginning to gently massage Sherlock’s neck and shoulders. Sherlock was rigid with pain and it took a long time before John was able to work through the mess of knots. Sherlock moaned softly occasionally but it wasn’t from pleasure. He was hurting so John didn’t stop.

Using more oil John worked his way up and down Sherlock’s back, over his arms and back up again to re-do his neck and even Sherlock’s scalp. It made Sherlock’s curls a little oily but it was worth it when Sherlock managed to curl around to put his head on John’s lap, shaking a bit with the pain. The tall man sighed deeply and suddenly his whole body seemed to relax. John still didn’t stop.

Working slowly and methodically John massaged his way over Sherlock’s whole head, rubbing in small firm circles. “I’m going to sit back Sherlock. You come up and lay against me okay? I’ll keep you warm and finish up here. We’ll both be more comfortable.” John shifted slowly, even stripping off his trousers and jumper so the rough materials didn’t irritate Sherlock who would be super-sensitive right now. John stuck a pillow behind his lower back and Sherlock managed to lay against John’s chest, his head on John’s shoulder and one hand on John’s other shoulder.

Sherlock was still groaning a little so John shushed him softly, running his fingers back through Sherlock’s curls and over his temple, behind his ears and down his neck again, working his small strong fingers into all the tense spots until Sherlock was limp and breathing gently. John let his arms circle Sherlock’s shoulders and closed his eyes. Sherlock couldn’t move now or it would undo all the work John had just done. John’s body would keep Sherlock warm through the night; the blanket would irritate the man and make him tense all over again. Sherlock was breathing slow and evenly but John’s hand didn’t stop carding through his curls soothingly. Hoping that Sherlock woke up headache free John fell asleep.

The next morning John woke up alone in Sherlock’s bed. There was no sign of the man but John was carefully covered in Sherlock’s duvet and there was a small note on Sherlock’s pillow. “Thank you John.” When John got up Sherlock was nowhere to be found but the shower was steamy and when John went upstairs to grab his robe he found clean clothes set out for him, including a pair of amusing pants that had bunches of cherries printed on them. John showered and got dressed, pulling his cherry pants on with a small laugh.

John didn’t see Sherlock very much after that. There were texts of course and things that went missing or appeared in the fridge. He was coming back to the flat when John wasn’t there. Sherlock magically appeared while John was showering and was selecting his clothes for him. John just pulled on whatever was waiting for him and got on with his day.

Saturday morning John slept in late. When he let himself wake up he stretched as hard as he could before flopping back. The Masquerade was tonight and Sherlock was providing the outfits. Covering his eyes with his hands John Watson, fearless Captain and Doctor, tried to tell himself it wouldn’t be so bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What will Sherlock make John wear do you suppose?


	4. Saturday Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone thinks John is just a simple man. Really he's not. One thing Sherlock has always noticed about the doctor is that he's always as surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They may get the tiniest bit naughty.

John ate a huge breakfast even though it was noon. He knew it was going to be an extremely long day, likely ending in violence unless they were lucky and if he was going to end up in the trauma room at four in the morning one more time John was damn well going to start the day with a hot meal! John deliberately did not think about what they were going to be doing that night. Though Sherlock had told him to clear his schedule the man had nearly entirely disappeared since he’d had his headache.

The Ghost of 221 B was still haunting the flat though. John heard a creak on the stairs to his room but he just kept cooking for himself while Sherlock picked out clothes and pants for John to wear today. It was becoming something of a habit now and John suddenly realized he hadn’t objected even once. Later on John was grateful that he’d had an hour or so to relax before Saturday really began.

John cleaned the kitchen up, the small domestic tasks soothing him as they always did. He liked to put things in order, liked to know that he’d taken care of the minutiae of their lives. It satisfied John so he very rarely fought to get Sherlock to do chores unless Sherlock was being a dick. Sherlock hated having to clean so making him mop the floors or scrub the tub out was more of a protective measure since it normally kept John from punching Sherlock in the face when he was being a shit. Other than that it gave John a sense of completion to look around the flat and see everything as it should be. Sherlock was good at what he did and John was good at what he did. Both men were happy.

Suddenly John heard Sherlock calling from the bathroom, “John I need your shaving cream can I have it?” John was going to shave before the event so he shrugged and told Sherlock he could. The can was brand new so there should be plenty for two men to shave their faces. Sherlock showered while John putted around. Eventually he had a small stack of paperbacks he’d read so he brought them back up to his room to trade them off with the ones on his to-read shelf.

There was a pile of dark material on John’s bed and a pamphlet. Putting his books away quickly John picked up the pamphlet and stared, his mouth falling open. This could not be right! People just didn’t DO this! Why in the world would you need INSTRUCTIONS on how to don your clothes? The first page of the four page pamphlet was a list of parts. What?

John pawed through the material on the bed. It seemed very strappy and small in all the wrong places. The socks were filmy and almost like stockings. There was a fucking HUGE amount of glitter and rhinestones. All of it was black except the metal and the things that sparkled and not one piece of it seemed big enough to cover anything decently. There was a hat, vaguely military looking if it weren’t for the brilliance of all the gold braid. The only things that John recognized were his boots which had been taken out and polished until they were like mirrors. He dug around desperately. Was that a codpiece? There was a big silver badge attached to it proclaiming John ‘The Long Arm of the Law’. No fucking way!

Then there was the cream. Sherlock had provided John with a large tube of glitter cream for his skin and instructions to coat himself everywhere visible. When John checked the pamphlet he could see clearly now that he might need the entire tube. “SHERLOCK!”

John stormed down to the bathroom. He could hear the tap at the sink running so Sherlock must be shaving now. Determined to have a hard word with his best friend about clothing and the sorts of things John Watson was prepared to wear John simply opened the door and walked right in. “Knocking is normally considered polite John.”

Sherlock was nearly naked. One long leg was crooked, his foot on the sink and every long inch covered in foamy shaving cream. Sherlock dragged his razor slowly up his leg, leaving a bared strip behind. He rinsed the razor and did another long strip. John realized he was staring but oh my god. Sherlock was glorious. His skin was pearly and it gleamed. His lush arse was barely covered in thin black pants that looked like silk. His other leg was planted firmly on the bathroom floor, his long toes dug into the matt as he steadied himself. “Since you’re not going to leave you can do the backs of my thighs. I can’t reach properly and I need it done for tonight.

Sherlock rinsed the blade and held it out to John. It was in his hand before John even realized he had moved toward Sherlock without a word about anything. Sherlock lowered his leg and leaned forward to brace himself on the sink. Sinking to his knees behind the detective John looked at Sherlock’s thighs, “Go on then. It’s chilly in here.”

John began slowly. He’d had to shave patients before so he knew what he was doing but there was something incredibly arousing about laying that blade against Sherlock’s alabaster skin and dragging it slowly upward. Reaching past Sherlock’s hip John rinsed the blade, his face almost close enough to bite the plush cheek of Sherlock’s amazingly firm ass. Kneeling back John slowly shaved another strip carefully. Sherlock’s skin was pebbled with the cold and he shivered. “It won’t take long.” John promised.

Strip after strip John did the back of Sherlock’s entire leg. When it was bare and smooth John took his shaving cream, shook the can and filled his hand. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, John smoothed the foam all over the back of Sherlock’s other leg, coating it evenly. He leaned forward to rinse his hand off but Sherlock caught it, washing it for John and drying it as well. John pulled back and reached his other hand around the other side so Sherlock washed that one too. Blade in hand John resumed shaving Sherlock’s leg.

John looked up. Even though he seemed cold Sherlock’s skin was popped out with sweat. Sherlock was almost shaking when John was finally done, his voice hoarse. “I can get the rest. I’ll get into a hot shower again and finish myself in there. Thank you John.” John nodded silently and fled the bathroom, grateful that Sherlock had not turned once because there was no way for John to hide the evidence of his arousal. Fully hard John made his way to his room, locked the door and buried his face in the pillow he snatched up as he masturbated his spit-slicked erection furiously. His cock felt overheated and heavy in his hand. John recalled the smooth creamy expanse of Sherlock’s leg, the softness of his skin and the curve of his ass. When John remembered how the fabric of Sherlock’s pants stretched across his cleft John peaked. With a loud groan John came onto the floor, his knees buckling as he slumped over panting and still moaning softly.

John had lost. He knew it. Whatever it took he was going to get through tonight and he was going to throw caution to the wind. It had been too many years of lying to himself. It had been far too long knowing that the right person was literally within arm’s reach. John wanted Sherlock in a way he had never once allowed himself to give in to. John knew without a shadow of a doubt that he wasn’t gay but he was definitely Sherlock-sexual. Their friendship was special and had endured so much already. John could only hope it would endure what he planned on doing to it, starting immediately.

John cleaned himself up, straightened his clothes and looked at the pile on the bed. Squaring his shoulders John carefully read the instructions and began sorting through everything until he had it all neatly laid out in order. Tonight they’d be heading into battle and these were his weapons. John never backed away from a challenge so with resolve John went ahead and mentally prepared himself for the craziest night of his life.

John dressed himself in the clothes Sherlock had also left for him including black silk socks and left the flat. Finding a barber he got his hair cut in a precise military cut and had his face shaved until it was smooth. When he was tidy John went for a long walk in the park to steady his nerves and calm down. It was a pleasant day and there were lots of people out so John enjoyed himself. When he began to get hungry, John sent Sherlock a quick message, “Food? I can pick up take-away.”

“Ginger beef” Okay that was a bit of a detour but it was Sherlock’s favorite indulgence and John could be pretty sure the man would eat all of it. They were likely to be drinking tonight so some food in the neglectful scientist would be helpful. John moved with purpose to make his way to the restaurant in question. He paid for his order then browsed around at the book store to kill some time. He found a book on lifestyles for D/s couples. John read the back. Then he read the first chapter. Paying for it John stuck it into his coat pocket and went to get their dinner.

Sherlock left a note on the kitchen table to just leave his dinner by his bedroom door. John nodded thoughtfully. Sherlock was doing “The Big Reveal” maneuver tonight. Following instructions after making Sherlock tea as well John left the detective’s meal outside his door on a tray along with a couple of Sherlock’s favorite biscuits and a glass of water. John didn’t want a repeat of the last time; he’d keep Sherlock properly hydrated tonight.

John ate slowly and relaxed in front of the telly to listen to a movie while he read his new book. When it was done he heard the Sherlock’s door click open and the soft clatter of the empty tray being set back out. John fetched it back to the kitchen pleased to see nothing but crumbs on it. He washed everything up, made them both another cup of tea and left it outside Sherlock’s door once again. After John finished his final cup he showered one more time, detailing himself closely. Allowing his freshly cut hair to dry on its own John went up to his room wearing only his robe and looked at everything he had set out earlier.

The instructions said to give himself half an hour to get geared up. John gave himself sixty minutes and he needed every one of them. Once every buckle had been fitted and every strap adjusted John diligently coated his exposed skin with the glitter cream. It made his chest hair a bit sticky but after it all dried properly the golden undertone of John’s skin was enhanced and he glistened softly. He actually felt weirdly comfortable. The straps that made up his outfit fitted him snugly. There were so many layers that it all actually covered all his private parts very well. Lacing his boots up tight John settled the cap on his head firmly, took a deep breath and looked at himself in the wardrobe mirror.

John’s face turned scarlet as he observed his appearance. The glitter covered Zorro mask would keep anyone from recognizing him just like everything else would hide the fact that John H Watson was wearing it. He looked like a bondage fantasy in the making. John turned left and right to see as much of himself as possible.

The outfit was sparkly for certain but there was a certain degree of butchness to it, something that said, “See this ridiculous thing? I’m such a confident man I can wear this and still be badass.” John was glad he was as fit as he was. Chasing Sherlock up and down alleys night after night had some benefits after all. The slight softness of his belly was entirely obscured by the flexible network of straps that John had woven onto himself and he actually looked kind of sexy. John blushed when he thought this about himself.

Craning his neck to look behind himself John also had to admit that his ass looked pretty good in black leather. Now that the outfit was assembled it would be very easy to get in and out of. John wondered why he would need to get into it a second time, there not being a huge need for leather strap outfits during on-the-job situations. There were two strategic buckles now that everything had been attached to one another and fitted to John’s body. Two quick flicks and everything would drop away. A bit on his chest and another at his hip had nothing attached but John assumed that they would make sense later on.

There was a soft tap at the door, “Don’t look yet John but you’ll need this too.” A long pale glittering arm reached inside and handed John a long black coat. Gratefully John shrugged into it and covered himself, leaving only the astoundingly garish hat showing. There was something heavy in the pocket and when John looked he discovered a thin braided leather leash and a tether with a connector at each end. He had to make himself breathe deeply when his fingers curled around the handle of the leash. It felt like it was tailor made for his hand. It wouldn’t surprise John to find out that Sherlock had crept into his room in the night to take a mold of John’s hand just to have a leash made.

When John finally braced himself to go downstairs he expected to be surprised by Sherlock’s appearance. Instead he was greeted to an entirely obscured Sherlock. The tall man was wearing a black silk cloak that billowed around him, the hood deep enough to hide his face, the rest of it falling to the floor to hide even Sherlock’s shoes. John could feel Sherlock’s eyes drag over him so he stood still, allowing his flatmate to inspect him. “Let’s go John.”

The business card Kirk had given them got them through a set of huge doors and into a small waiting room. After the exterior doors closed the interior ones opened and suddenly John and Sherlock were in the middle of the biggest fetish party in London. Looking around John saw the most bizarre display of flesh and human curiosity he’d ever been exposed to. Some of the outfits were so odd John couldn’t quite fathom what the kink was. Nudity was highly acceptable and while bodies may be swathed in what could be termed clothes there was an ingenious array of access points cleverly built in, just in case taking your clothes off was just too much trouble. Many people were using those points quite freely and right out in the open.

Sherlock took two long gliding steps in front of John and stopped cold. His fingers worked at his throat for a second and then Sherlock allowed his cloak to drop. John forgot that breathing was necessary as a rage of possessiveness obliterated him. Sherlock’s naked back was still to him and John could see thin black leather straps criss-crossing the man’s back until they got to his miraculous ass to cover them in a pattern that suggested that the leather spread open easily, should it for some reason be required. The wrapped straps continued down Sherlock’s incredibly long legs until they wove closely together to form a sort of stocking that became a soft soled boot. There was a heavy silver belt around Sherlock’s narrow hips, it seemed metallic. The detective’s hair was gorgeously coiled and dusted with something that made it shimmer. Long leather fingerless gloves climbed Sherlock’s arms and seemed accentuate the narrowness of his waist and chest. His pale skin almost twinkled wherever it was exposed just like John’s did and John nearly growled.

Sherlock turned slowly, his arms slightly extended as he allowed John to take in the rest of his outfit. His heavy leather mask obscured his face and the pattern of the crystals on it made the mask look like lace. A heavy collar fitted Sherlock’s long neck and there was the letter ‘J” stamped into it. Sherlock’s chest was criss-crossed with a pair of hand-cuffs fitted to the black straps and they were slightly off center. John realized that X marked the spot right over Sherlock’s heart and from each cuff dandled a small letter ‘J’ as well. The straps wrapped around the marble of Sherlock’s flesh to cover his hips. The straps all seemed to converge on a metallic lock that was placed squarely over Sherlock’s genitals. The belt at Sherlock’s waist had an empty hook on it and John realized that’s where his tether would go. Sherlock stepped forward and produced a silver key and clipped it to the fitting on John’s chest. Holy fuck.

John picked up Sherlock’s cloak, letting his eyes wander down Sherlock’s long legs as he did so. Standing up slowly John undid his own coat. Sherlock’s nostrils flared but that was the only thing he did as his eyes took in John. They checked their coats in and John clipped Sherlock’s hip to his with a snap of metal. Sherlock simply said, “The office is in the back of the club. There are four main rooms. We’ll need to work our way from room to room to get to it. Come on John.”

Sherlock turned his back and tried to walk away. John reined him in with the tether. Sherlock turned to complain but John just stepped up close and said, “Quiet.” in a soft voice. Sherlock fell silent. John stepped in front of the detective and looked around. There were several large rooms that radiated away from the large central receiving room that they were currently in. Every type of fetish was displayed the amount of leather, rubber and metal enough to make John realize that his outfit was practically demure and bashful. There was a dance floor in each room and John could see how it worked. The owner liked the unusual displays provided but only skillful performers made it inside the inner rooms. Without asking John made his way to the first floor.

Sherlock followed silently but John could feel his eyes boring into the back of John’s head. Everyone seemed to be staring at Sherlock and John did not like that one bit. When they got to the floor John took Sherlock in his arms and began to dance him around. Sherlock was stiff and resistant at first but John wasn’t putting up with that. With a tug on his hip and a squeeze of his hand John put Sherlock to rights and began dancing with him properly. The sexual tension between them now crackled. John didn’t allow himself to touch Sherlock more than needful for dancing but his body felt electrified by the tall man’s presence and John could finally see that he wasn’t the only one affected.

Sherlock’s eyes were nearly black. Only slivers of color remained at the edges. John smiled slowly. He felt predatory, like a hunter who had just found the most succulent prey. When Sherlock saw that look even that faint bit of color disappeared. During that first dance, in front of strangers they’d yet to look at, in front of who knows who in the kinkiest party in London John Watson took possession of Sherlock Holmes. John didn’t need to do a thing. He felt the shift in their relationship slip into place like it hadn’t been properly aligned up until then. Sherlock heaved a shuddering sigh and was suddenly molded to John’s body, pliant and accepting.

Two songs in and John got a deliberate nod from a leather clad man near the doorway of the next room. Taking Sherlock’s tether in hand John led the man away to make their way to the next floor. In here the music was faster, more frenetic and less to John’s taste. Still Sherlock managed to put on an amazing show, displaying some contortionist skills that John would definitely be remembering later on. Those moves got them into the next room almost immediately.

There was a bar here and John made Sherlock stop for a drink of water. Sherlock did as he was told and drank it down but in the most obscenely filthy way. John was thanking the amount of leather that was holding his cock in place by the time Sherlock set his empty glass down, the last drops sucked meaningfully from the rim. They were approached by a slim woman in scarlet leather. She was leading a man with a full face hood on and nothing else but the collar her leash was tied to, “Care to join us at the whipping post?” Sherlock shied back and John shook his head brusquely. He wasn’t going to whip Sherlock in public or anywhere else!

This room was filled with slow moving music so John gathered Sherlock up close and the two of them writhed across the floor. Sherlock wound his arms around John’s neck and kept himself as close to John as he could. His eyes never left the doctor’s face and he seemed to be breathing raggedly. John couldn’t resist any longer. He ran his nose over Sherlock’s jaw, not quite touching the taller man’s skin, “I like the way you look. It suits you.” Sherlock shivered in John’s arms when he saw the heat in John’s eyes but he didn’t pull away, “You’ve danced perfectly. I like the way it feels when we dance together.”

“We have to focus on the case John.” whispered Sherlock. John was almost disappointed when he heard Sherlock speak except that Sherlock didn’t stop. Their faces were very close to one another and John could almost feel the warmth of Sherlock’s lips next to his. Sherlock’s voice stayed soft, “John. After we finish here, John, I think I’d like…”

“OH MY GOD YOU CAME!” Kirk was there and he was bouncing around. He was wearing nothing but white briefs and he had tiny feathered wings strapped to his back and little white horns peeking from his hair. There was a bit of lace glued to his face as a mask, “Sherlock I’d recognize that behind ANYWHERE! John? John OH MY GOD you look so HOT! I know I said soldier but WOW oh my god you two are SO coming with me.”

Kirk gushed and cooed his way through the crowds, waving madly at friends in the distance and blowing kisses everywhere. “The kink is SUPERB tonight. I have naughties going on simply EVERYWHERE! Do you perform Sherlock? Do you let him perform John? We have a stage. It’s up to you; I don’t know what your rules are but OH MY GOD DO YOU LOOK SEXY!” Kirk only seemed to have two settings, giddy and excited. How did he run a criminal empire?

“No. I don’t display him. I don’t share. He’s mine.” to emphasize this John drew Sherlock closer and Sherlock let him. They’d garnered a small crowd, several men and women looking hungrily at Sherlock. If his remark hadn’t been clear John added, “No touching.” John had to grit his jaw to keep from telling everyone to stop drooling over Sherlock!

Kirk made a moue of disappointment, “I thought so when we met. You had that look on your face. Okay, it shatters me but it will be strictly hands off your sub, though I have to say he’s pretty well labelled, I guess everyone will have to just fill their eyes and be happy. Wait here!”

Sherlock turned to John, “So I’m your sub, John?” John grinned. It was nice being on the other side sometimes. Sherlock actually looked a bit startled so John just went ahead and laid it out for him. It was ridiculous to play games after all this time.

“Yeah, mine. Problem?” Sherlock was biting his lip and looking down at John through his extravagant mask. John stepped in closer and whispered softly right into Sherlock’s ear. “I did a bit of reading and I know you like it when I learn new things. A Dom’s job turns out to be rather interesting. It seems like the good ones take very good care of their subs, make them do things that need doing and generally controlling everything because the sub can’t seem to do it themselves. The pay-off is the fucking. We’ve never done that but I KNOW how you love research. Here’s how I see it going. This key is really mine. Only I get to unlock you and take you out to play. You do what I tell you and I keep you happy. This lovely get-up tonight lets me know you’ve been thinking about this for a bit and you’re not really interested in being in charge even if you are a bossy little thing. Here’s my offer then. Get the evidence we need to work the case and when we get home later on I promise to take you right the fuck apart and make it impossible for you to walk for at least two days, how’s that?”

Sherlock nearly collapsed. His knees gave out and only John’s arms around him kept him from falling to the floor. There wasn’t a trace of color left in Sherlock’s eyes and he was shaking all over again. When he managed to stand Sherlock looked down at John and tried to say something. Nothing happened so Sherlock tried again. Nothing! Finally Sherlock just nodded and bit his lip once more. “Good boy. I’d kiss you to seal the deal but right now I think I’d better just wait. Clock’s running Sherlock. The longer this takes the longer you have to wait for it.”

Sherlock with incentive was a miraculous thing. When Kirk returned with drinks Sherlock was funny and charming, teasing and very clearly John’s. Whenever another Dom came by Sherlock would situate himself behind John or next to him, his demeanor submissive despite the differences in their heights. Sherlock got a lot of offers and John turned every single one down curtly. It impressed Kirk no end and he wiggled eagerly each time an offer was made.

One man wanted John. He cut in between John and Sherlock and radiated sexual attraction. He was tall and dark, gorgeous and fit, his rock hard body squeezed into a rubber pants that showed each and every detail of his body clearly. The man invaded John’s personal space and crowded the short doctor to the counter. Sherlock scowled at the floor but John was an alpha dog and he wasn’t going to put up with shit like this right in front of Sherlock. Grabbing hold of the man’s elaborate nipple ring John twisted it slightly. The man smiled at first but the pleasure quickly faded and his face paled as John snarled at him, “Go away. Now.” The man left.

Artfully upset now Sherlock managed to eventually spill a drink and John snapped. “Kirk, I need ten minutes of alone time with this one. He’s gets clumsy when he gets jealous.” Kirk grinned and pointed to the office, the only private space in the building. Grabbing Sherlock’s tether John hauled the lanky man away, scolding him loudly as they went.

Once inside they stopped and Sherlock rushed to the computer. Inserting a flash drive he quickly copied the files they needed to begin solving the case. Impatiently John waited by the door until Sherlock was done. As soon as Sherlock had shut everything down John pulled the detective close and kissed him for the first time. It was hard and brutal, their tongues battling and their lips mashed together. John bit at Sherlock’s lower lip until it was red and swollen, Sherlock groaning and rocking his hips almost helplessly. His long arms wrapped tight around John, hanging on to the straps across John’s shoulders as he pressed himself as close to the doctor as he could.

When they pulled apart Sherlock looked absolutely wrecked and it took everything in John not to just take him where they stood. “Good. Now everyone will think you’ve been properly punished.” Sherlock was an excellent actor to so with a bit of concentration he allowed huge tears to fall while John tried not to laugh. With a wink Sherlock assumed an embarrassed pose and let John lead him out of the office while he sniffled. Kirk was there and John let himself look angry. “We’re heading home. Once he gets like this it all goes from bad to worse. It’ll be a while before I let him back into public again.”

“Oh the good ones are worth it though, aren’t they John? That little bit of fight is what makes them SO precious. Poor Sherlock baby, look at that mouth! What he must have done to YOU! Naughty man! You absolutely MUST come back when he’s properly behaved, maybe on Whips Wednesday? Laters!” flapping his hands wildly Kirk waved them farewell.

John looked angry as he pulled Sherlock through the crowds, earning Sherlock a collection of sympathetic as well as envious looks. John got their coats and covered Sherlock up right away much to the disappointment of everyone who was watching their dramatic departure. Without a word they left the part and got a taxi. Sherlock had gotten the evidence they needed for the case just as John had asked and now it was time to collect his reward. Leaning forward John crisply asked for them to be taken to 221 B Baker Street.

Please feel free to enjoy the growing collection of artwork [here](http://ruxicassiopeia.deviantart.com/)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well they got the evidence they were looking for. What should they do with ALL their free time now? Somehow I don't think their time in The Club is done, what about you?
> 
> SOMEONE MADE FAN-ART
> 
> I haven't stopped screaming for ages now. LOOK, GO AHEAD, LOOK!


	5. The Next Step

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things at the club went just as planned and then went a lot further.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are reading this fic and are troubled by rather detailed M/M action you should stop reading now. I've tried to adjust my tags accordingly but it's entirely possible I've missed some.

The door to 221 B closed almost silently behind John. Sherlock hadn’t said a word the whole tense ride back from the party. They’d removed their masks but that was it. John had made sure to not touch the man beside him, not even a finger. John had a lot of self-control but not so much that he would be able to stop himself from ravishing the tall pale man by his side. This had been a long time coming and John wasn’t going to have their first experience together in the back of a grotty taxi. John paid for the taxi and unlocked the door, allowing Sherlock to brush past him and head upstairs. Now both men stood in the living room, silent and staring.

John moved first. He took off his coat and stepped close to Sherlock. John watched Sherlock’s eyes as he undid the tie at Sherlock’s throat. When it was undone John slowly pulled the obscuring cloak away and allowed himself to drink in Sherlock’s appearance. He was gorgeous but John felt sticky and sweaty. John ran curious fingers over the cuffs that crossed Sherlock’s chest and was interested in how Sherlock’s nipples tighten as John’s fingers slide just above them. The outfits were enticing but they were seriously in the way, “Let’s get out of this. I want a bit of a wash beforehand.” Sherlock nodded and John unclipped the key he had worn all night long. Still looking into Sherlock’s eyes John inserted the key and turned it. Once again they lost all color as both of them heard the click.

Sherlock’s outfit pushed away easily now leaving him standing in front of John wearing a pair of essentially invisible black sheer pants. Clearly his legs weren’t the only thing Sherlock had shaved and the pants did nothing to hide his straining erection. The tall man bent gracefully and undid the laces of John’s boots while John enjoyed the sight of Sherlock’s plump behind. Sherlock knelt in front of John and flicked the first buckle before flicking the second one. Now John’s outfit fell to pieces and all the parts were slowly pulled away by Sherlock. When Sherlock stood again John caught him by the chin and asked, “Do you want this Sherlock? I need you to be clear with me because this changes everything between us.”

There was no hesitation and Sherlock’s voice was thick with desire. “I want this John. I’ve wanted it for a long time. Years. Years and years. Since we first met, really. I’ve been trying to find a way of showing you, of telling you but you’re so stubborn! You refuse to see us as anything but what we were. I had to take steps.”

John was smiling as Sherlock confessed himself and felt the fool when he realized how Sherlock had finally gotten his attention, “The socks.” Sherlock nodded. “How did you do it?”

“Micro-dots. I’ve got one on each pair of your pants. When you change I get an alert on my phone telling me which one you’ve picked. I have an acquaintance in the fashion district that’s been making matched socks for me. I’ve taken a picture of every pair of pants you own. It’s a rather scandalous selection John. I was so surprised when you began to experiment, I didn’t think you had it in you. When I saw you in those red pants I knew I’d try just about anything to get you to think about being with me properly!”

“You sneaky little bastard, you couldn’t have just told me you wanted more?” Sherlock shook his head slowly when John asked. Sherlock looked very serious for a moment and then his face softened.

“That would be boring John and you aren’t boring.” Sherlock leaned down and kissed John with achingly soft lips. “You’re anything but boring John. You are the most singularly interesting man I’ve ever known.”

“Shower. Now.” John chased Sherlock into the shower, both men laughing softly. It was easy to just strip away the last small barriers that kept them apart and step into the cubicle together. It felt fantastic to be under the spray with one another, their exploring hands scrubbing away the glitter and sweat from the evening. It didn’t feel awkward because it was Sherlock and he was John and they fit together naturally. This was just the next step in their evolution, “God you’re gorgeous.” John knew Sherlock’s body. They’d been together a long time and John had seen nearly every part of Sherlock there was to see and now under the water he finally got to witness the last piece of hidden beauty.

Sherlock’s cock was as gorgeous as the rest of him. It was a long slender column that jutted up with a slight curve and bumped beautifully against the thick heavy weight of John’s. Both of them moaned as they deliberately slid themselves over one another in the water, not touching with their hands, just allowing the bob and spring of their members to coincide. They kissed one another over and over again, hungry for more but holding themselves back.

Sherlock’s hands were suddenly all over John’s ass and the taller man made a sound so filthy John just about melted, “Your ass is superb John. I really, really hope I get to experience it.” John hadn’t really thought about being fucked by Sherlock. He’d only really ever thought about bending the tall man over and driving him through the earth’s crust. Sherlock rubbed wetly against John’s chest with his own and whispered, “Some other time John, tonight you have a promise to keep.

Oh god yes.

After they’d managed to get the glitter out of Sherlock’s hair they washed each other down one more time, both men hard and anxious but still filled with the playfulness of old friends. Teasing one another they got out and kissed their way through a rough attempt at drying each other off. This time when John knelt behind Sherlock to dry his legs he indulged himself and bit into Sherlock’s left cheek softly. “Oh fucking god John!” Sherlock reared back and his legs shook. John smiled and noted how responsive Sherlock was, especially when Sherlock said, “When you did my legs earlier…I was half an instant away from coming on the spot. I had to masturbate in the shower.”

That’s why he’d been shaking yet still sweaty! John bit Sherlock’s ass again and the man groaned deeply, “I made it to my room with mere seconds to spare before I came. Let’s not waste any more time. Let’s get to bed Sherlock, off we go.” Sherlock could already barely walk. He was so aroused he was having difficulty. John smiled and helped his soon-to-be lover to his room.

Finally Sherlock stopped him, “John. John it’s been an incredibly long time for me. I haven’t been with anyone since I was in Uni. I….I’m nervous.” John had thought as much. He’d never bought into the idea that Sherlock was a virgin. It would be impossible for this crazy man to let an entire segment of human experience go unexplored. John himself had done a fair bit of experimenting; a lot of opportunities came up for a bold man who traveled the world. John just kissed Sherlock until he relaxed.

“How many lovers Sherlock?” John just wanted a rough idea of how to start. If Sherlock had only one or two lovers John would be gentler. If not, then John would allow Sherlock’s reactions to guide him. Sherlock looked at his feet and shrugged, “That many?”

“I was collecting data, John. Singles. Doubles. Groups. Men. Women. No animals. Even I draw the line somewhere. Still, university is an excellent place to gather as much data as you please if you’re examining sex. Once I had the information I needed I stopped. I’m perfectly clean even after the drugs and all the sleeping around. I’ve always been extraordinarily careful but and I know you’re going to be mad about this but I have taken your blood and had us both tested. We’re clean. Condoms are optional.” Groups? John could barely imagine Sherlock finding a single body he wanted to have sex with never mind an entire group!

“Surprisingly I’m okay with you doing that. No condom for me thanks. When I come in you I want both of us to enjoy it.” Sherlock’s knees gave out a second time and he flopped onto his bed gracelessly. John looked down at that innocent appearing expanse and knew there were unplumbed depths just waiting to be explored and John loved to explore. That roil of possessiveness swamped him again. John caught Sherlock’s eyes and fiercely said, “I’m your ONLY lover now though Sherlock. I was serious at the club. No one touches, no one gets one fucking finger in and I don’t care what your reasons are.”

Sherlock’s eyes were shining and he looked brilliantly happy, “No one but you John. I promise. I’ll never let anyone touch me but you. I wouldn’t want it.” He rolled to his side and dug into the dresser by the bed to produce a nearly full bottle of lube. John took it with a grin.

“Is there anything else you don’t want? Anything you don’t like?” John was always a considerate lover and never wanted to shock someone or make them do anything that made them uncomfortable. He didn’t want to accidently trigger Sherlock if there had been a bad experience, these were their first steps and John wanted them to be good ones. Sherlock shook his head but bit his lip, unaccountably shy the way he never normally was and even more alluring for it. John guessed, “There’s something you like though, something you want.”

“I rather enjoy having my ass licked; it’s not really something everyone is prepared to do. I didn’t really think about the dominant or submissive side of things but subconsciously it’s obvious that it’s something I also want. I like sucking cock rather a lot and I’d like to lick your ass too.” Well John had asked hadn’t he? Rimming definitely wasn’t one of those things that John had ever shied away from if the lady he was with was interested. Now that he was with Sherlock he would do absolutely anything the brilliant man asked for and introduce Sherlock to all the things John wanted as well.

“I want whatever you want Sherlock, you never have to worry about asking for something if you’re not getting it. That’s what I want from you, I want to know you better, learn everything I can about you just so I can keep you as happy as I’m able to. That’s all I want.” John was completely willing to do anything Sherlock wanted or let Sherlock do anything he wanted as long as he didn’t hurt himself or anyone else. He was about to caution Sherlock when the tall man kissed him silent.

“John, I want to rely on you. You’ve always been my compass, you understand me the way no one else does. What I want….what I want is…I do want a D/s relationship with you. I had a taste of it tonight and I want more. You know better than I how wrong-headed I can be. I need you John. I go too far all the time and I can trust you to give me limits I can respect. Would that be acceptable to you?” Sherlock actually sounded worried as if there was any chance in hell that John would say no.

“Sounds perfect Sherlock, I want that too. I really want that. I want you; anyway you’ll give yourself to me.” John began to kiss Sherlock because he could not resist those plump perfect lips forever. With a moan they began kissing one another, starved for what they’d denied themselves for so long. Sherlock was vocal, moaning and sighing with each kiss that John pressed to his mouth or face.

Sherlock’s skin was delicious, spicy and musky. It was soft too, a delicate layer over the rock hard muscles that made up Sherlock’s perfect body. Sherlock had shaved everywhere and was smooth and silky. John went over each inch of it just to make sure and found that Sherlock had done an excellent job of it. John saved Sherlock’s upper thighs for last so by the time he got there Sherlock was nearly desperate for him.

John looked at Sherlock’s cock for a minute, studying it. It was pink and slightly thicker at the base, his wrinkled testicles full and heavy. A drip of pre-cum glistened on the glans, tempting John to lick it off but before he did that John leaned in and ran his nose slowly over Sherlock. The tall man twisted and groaned as John took in the intimate scent of him. This was the scent that teased John, the elusive distinctive fragrance that was just Sherlock, concentrated and magnified. John felt the need to possess this man overwhelm him again. He began.

John licked his way slowly over Sherlock’s balls and up his shaft. With a slow swipe of his tongue he tasted Sherlock, teasing him with a second slow swipe before lipping at his frenulum. Sherlock was uncut but his foreskin had retracted, exposing him cleanly for John to enjoy. The sound of Sherlock’s voice crying out his name shot straight to John’s cock which he ignored as best he was able. John was going to take his time and savor this. John took Sherlock in slowly and suddenly Sherlock’s hands were on John’s head, not pushing, just resting on his hair as if Sherlock needed to ground himself somehow. John allowed his head to bob a few times, letting Sherlock’s cock bump to the back of his throat but only teasing the man. John didn’t want Sherlock to finish yet.

John kissed and licked his way down the inner seam of Sherlock’s groin, flicking his tongue over all the small sensitive areas while Sherlock continued to moan out John’s name. Sherlock already had his legs spread as wide as they could go so John worked his way down until he needed to push a pillow beneath Sherlock’s hips to angle him properly.

John kept it slow and gentle, wanting Sherlock to experience the maximum amount of pleasure from this act. Shower fresh Sherlock tasted as clean as rainwater, the wrinkled pucker beneath John’s tongue almost quivering with each damp pass. John pressed his teeth against Sherlock’s perineum but didn’t bite then allowed his tongue to drag back down and around Sherlock’s pucker until it began to relax and open. “Beautiful.” murmured John.

Sherlock was so sensitive. His hips were trying to rock as John’s tongue began to tease and delve just the tiniest bit. Suddenly John no longer cared if he came or not, it was only important to give Sherlock as much pleasure as John could manage. John closed his eyes and concentrated on his task. Soon his tongue was working easily in and out of Sherlock who was going wild, his hand now tangled in his own curls as he moaned and shouted as John mercilessly teased him. Sherlock was stammering now, demanding more and with a smile John gave it to him.

Using the lube John gave Sherlock one last hot deep lick before sliding his coated finger in. Sherlock’s body stilled and then he shuddered from head to toe, “Oh John.” Sherlock’s voice was deep, guttural. Working carefully John kept sliding his finger in and out until he felt Sherlock was ready for a second and eventually a third. John was careful to tease Sherlock’s prostate occasionally but just tease. Watching Sherlock writhe on the bed, his cheeks flushed prettily and his lower lip swollen from the man biting it as he moaned almost undid John’s iron resolve. His cock jerked angrily and demanded to be put to use. John decided it was time.

John used a generous amount and shifted himself close. He used a minute to control his breathing and stroke the insides as Sherlock’s thighs. John ran his hands slowly up Sherlock’s body, over his throat until John was arched over Sherlock and looking into his eyes. John kissed Sherlock, their gaze never breaking. “I’m taking you now Sherlock and I’m going to keep you.”

John lined himself up and pushed in with one smooth motion. Sherlock’s eyes flew open before fluttering wildly as his long back arched and the most beautiful gasp of surprise escaped his reddened lips. Sherlock’s voice was filled with passion, “Oh John!” John had to close his eyes and focus. Sherlock felt incredible. The smooth push inward had been tight, tighter than anything John had ever felt before and Sherlock was so hot inside. John’s whole body shook as he struggled to hold back from releasing immediately. This was perfection, this was glory and this was everything that John needed to feel.

John began to rock his hips slowly, enjoying the feel of re-entry. Leaning forward John bit gently at Sherlock’s nipples, making the taller man cry out once again and clutch at John. John smiled and bit his way over to Sherlock’s other nipple, suck and teasing it with his tongue as his hips continued to move. Sherlock had completely lost the ability to speak. He gasped and sighed, moaned and huffed little breaths as John took him apart as promised. When John had finally had his fill of slow he began to thrust harder, testing Sherlock’s reactions to see what happened.

Sherlock responded. He wanted it harder so John braced himself on his hands over Sherlock and began to ride the slender man with slowly increasing ferocity. Sherlock’s ass was as fantastic, amazing and incredible as the rest of Sherlock and now John was groaning along with his lover. Those long bare legs rose up and hooked over John’s shoulders so John’s weight rested on Sherlock’s strong thighs. Holding Sherlock’s shoulders with his hands John gave Sherlock everything.

The bed creaked menacingly as their bodies rocked together hard and fast. It was a good thing no one was home in the flat next door because the headboard was thumping with familiar regularity as John fucked Sherlock as hard as he could. Sherlock’s long fingers wrapped around his cock and began to stroke in time with John’s thrusts and Sherlock began to get louder. The dark haired man was nearly hyperventilating by the time his back arched and his head went back. Sherlock’s mouth dropped open but no sound came out as his eyes closed and John felt him go rigid for a moment.

Time stopped for an instant. John couldn’t tear his eyes from Sherlock’s face. John had never seen something so beautiful, so perfect and so extraordinary as witnessing Sherlock Holmes orgasm. Small cries escaped Sherlock with each jet of come that splashed across his flat belly, they sang sweetly in John’s ears. The way Sherlock’s eyebrows raised, the way a small wrinkle formed between his eyes all told John how powerful the orgasm was how Sherlock was completely lost at the moment, drowning in the pleasured tides that John had created.

John came. He couldn’t resist the throbbing grip of Sherlock’s passage on his cock, couldn’t wait one more second. John felt himself begin to empty deep in Sherlock’s body and the intensity of it made John’s whole body want to scream with the almost painful exquisiteness of it all. His head went back and he drove his hips powerfully until he was spent.

They lay there for a long time before John was able to move to the side. After panting for a bit John heard Sherlock’s much more normal sounding voice, “That was pretty vanilla.”

“Fuck off Sherlock.” the bed was shaking again but it was because the both of them were laughing. “It was our first time, not exactly the moment for breaking out the crazier moves.”

Sherlock’s laugh was free and unrestrained, “I’m taking you now Sherlock.” he imitated and John elbowed him in the sides, blushing a bit. Now both of them couldn’t stop giggling.

“I said fuck off!” John was entirely blushing now. It had been a bit dramatic but for the moment it had felt right. Still laughing Sherlock curled up against John’s body easily and hugged him tight.

“It was really rather perfect.” John hugged Sherlock back, both men still laughing a bit. “I actually may have difficulties walking. I can’t feel my legs.” Now the bed was shaking all over again as they laughed heartily. John enjoyed the feel of Sherlock’s head on his shoulder and the way Sherlock’s fingers were toying with the hair on John’s chest. The tall man was quiet and relaxed, simply enjoying the ease of the moment.

After a bit John felt the need to ask, “You still want this though? Now that you’ve gotten an idea of what’s we could do?”

Sherlock twisted around so he could look into John’s face. His brilliant eyes darted over John’s features before he answered, “I want this more than I’ve wanted anything in my entire life. John, we’ve been the best of friends for years now. We understand one another; give each other what we need. Why not this? Like I said, it was kind of perfect. I can’t imagine why I wouldn’t want to keep going for as long as possible. What about you? Now that you’ve gotten it out of your system, is this what YOU want?”

“Out of my system? No, I haven’t gotten anything out of my system. I want this too Sherlock. I think it will be good for both of us. I mean, people have thought we’ve been dating for years already right? The only people who didn’t think we were a couple was us! Greg’s mentioned it how many times or your brother? Fuck, who gets to tell Mycroft we finally did it?”

“You obviously, John, you’re the dominant partner. It’s your job.” John rolled his eyes. He was NOT talking to Mycroft Holmes about sex with Sherlock!

“My job is to make you do things so I think I’m going to make you do this.” Sherlock snorted and reached for his mobile. “No text. Face to face. I deserve at least that.” when John said that Sherlock dropped his mobile like it burned his hand.

“You do John. I will. I’ll tell Mycroft as soon as we can arrange to see him.” Now Sherlock cuddled up almost apologetically, “I don’t want to do anything that makes you unhappy John. I’m very proud to begin this relationship with you and I hope I can make you as happy as I know you’re going to make me.”

John was very surprised and pleased by this reaction. “What do you want to tell people?” How would they present themselves? Sherlock shrugged.

“I’m not sure John. Is it necessary to tell anyone anything? I suppose I could tell people you’re my boyfriend. It would probably shock them less than admitting you’re my Dom though Mycroft and Mrs. Hudson would probably both be pleased with that.” John could just envision introducing Sherlock as his boyfriend to his Catholic family. The first time Harry had brought a woman home John’s mum had gone spare. She’d never really forgiven John’s sister for coming out of the closet. Still, John was very proud of Sherlock and weeping or not he would be very happy to claim Sherlock as his boyfriend. John had the feeling he’d like it to be even more than that eventually. Tonight was a big step though and as much as John might want to rush he controlled himself. It was what he was good at.

“Boyfriend it is. We need a new bed or Mrs. Hudson is going to throw us into the street.” now both of them were giggling again, trying to stop but failing miserably. They were happy, relieved and content and filled with a giddy kind of mirth that fed back and forth between them. John kissed Sherlock’s head, “Come on, it’s time to go have some tea.”

They crawled shakily out of bed, Sherlock’s legs still very wobbly and went to the bathroom to clean up. Making their way to the kitchen Sherlock dropped onto his chair with a thump. “Seriously John, what did you do to my legs?” John could not stop giggling. He realized they hadn’t even pulled on robes. They were completely naked.

“I kept my promise Sherlock. I’m going to go get our robes.” John made his way to his room to shrug on his bathrobe and grabbed Sherlock’s robe from his. By the time he got back to the kitchen the kettle was whistling and Sherlock was plugging the flash drive into John’s laptop. While the tea brewed Sherlock began to poke around. A small frown knitted his brow.

“It seems that Kirk is more than he seems. The club itself is relatively straight-forward but it does seem to provide our new friend with an excellent opportunity to network with just about anyone in London without fear of discovery. He saw right through our masks without trouble. He’s used to doing so. This case may actually be interesting.” Sherlock was tapping his bottom lip thoughtfully.

John stood behind Sherlock and rubbed his shoulders while he read the reports with the detective. Sherlock pointed out interesting details as they went along and before John realized it dawn had arrived. Suddenly he was exhausted. Dragging a protesting Sherlock along behind him John made Sherlock help him change the sheets and forced him to go to bed. It had been a long, long day as expected and John was ready for sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pft I knew you'd read it all. So...Kirk...what game is he really playing I wonder?


	6. Their First Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They've finally done it! It's about time.

John woke up late the next morning with Sherlock sprawled over him like a gigantic starfish. It wouldn’t have been so bad if Sherlock had been face down but for some reason the detective had shifted around in his sleep and was lying face up almost entirely on top of John. John wondered how he hadn’t been simply crushed to death in the night. He began to push the tall man off of him.

“John.” Sherlock’s voice was rough with sleep. “John my arse is killing me.” John didn’t want to laugh but he did. He chuckled the whole time he was wiggling out from beneath the completely unhelpful Sherlock.

“Stay put. I’ll bring you some paracetamols.” John detoured to the bathroom first but as soon as he washed his hands he got two tablets for Sherlock who was groaning dramatically on the bed.

“My back hurts too.” John just shook his head and put up with the whinging. “You’ve totally destroyed me John. I hope the case doesn’t break open today or Kirk is getting away entirely free.” John just helped Sherlock sit up to take his pills and drink some water.

“I need to pee.” John helped Sherlock out of bed and propped him up as they limped to the bathroom. Leaving him in peace John waited until he heard Sherlock flush and complain again. “I can’t get up.” John rolled his eyes. He went back to the bathroom. Ignoring Sherlock still sitting on the loo John started the shower. When it was hot he helped the pouting detective up and helped him hobble under the spray. Sherlock complained some more until John got in with him, draping himself over John’s good shoulder so John could rub soothing circles on Sherlock’s lower back.

The combination of the hot water, tablets and John’s hands finally allowed Sherlock’s back to loosen up, “Better?” asked John. Sherlock sighed deeply and nodded before standing up. Sherlock raised his arms high above his head and stretched, his spine cracking the whole way up.

“You really know how to keep your word John. I think this is going to be an inside day.” Sherlock hobbled his way out of the shower and into a robe before settling permanently on the sofa with a blanket across his knees. Both men were still very happy though and John set about pampering Sherlock an outrageous amount. Sherlock’s back was fine but his behind was definitely sore, he spent all his time slouched to the side.

They were working on the case. It looked pretty basic as far as the individual crimes went. It was just the volume that was astounding. From the clues Sherlock discovered it seemed that Kirk had his hand in every small game in town. He wasn’t a super-criminal but he was a productive one. “We need more information. If I’d had time I could have copied his whole drive and not just part of it. We’ll need to go back.”

“Sherlock this better not be an excuse to go back to that sex-club.” John wasn’t really interested in strapping up and going out again, especially tonight. This case was only moderately interesting compared to most of the work they did these days but Sherlock was on the trail and there was no stopping him.

“It’s not but we are. Whips Wednesday remember? We’ve got four days for me to recuperate and prepare.” John sat there and wondered why he was so very surprised when he shouldn’t have been. “Don’t worry John; I’ll take care of the outfits again. I’ll need to do some research, tea please.”

Well at least he was saying please now so that was something. John knew when to pick his battles and he’d already lost this one. Sub or not Sherlock had made up his mind for The Work and nothing would shift him. John didn’t even try. “No rubber clothes though. Those people were creaky. It would really throw me off.”

“I imagine it would be sweaty too. Very well John, no rubber clothes.” Sherlock then set to shopping online, having a disturbingly large list of sites already bookmarked. “I have our sizes already so it’s just a matter of finding the right things in stock and paying online. We can go around tomorrow afternoon and collect it.”

Oh god. A whole afternoon spent going around London picking up who knows what! “What do we even know about Whips Wednesday because I’m telling you now I don’t particularly care for the idea of whipping you.”

Sherlock glanced at John, “Then we are in accord because I don’t particularly think I would enjoy being whipped. I only suggest that night because Kirk specifically mentioned it. I think we should take the hint and go. It will be up to you to keep me unmarked, if you please.” There it was, the second please of the day. John was mildly impressed with the change in Sherlock.

“Whatever you pick make sure the tether works. I don’t want someone winkling you away right in front of me. Those people are bolder than brass. What was with the man at the bar? Did I seem interested?” John shook his head again but Sherlock just gave John a heated look.

“Well you did look particularly interesting John. You managed to get into my pants after all and how many people can say that?” Sherlock raised an eyebrow at John.

“Your whole university from what you tell me.” said John and now Sherlock was the one rolling his eyes.

“Amusing John. At least my proclivities stayed within a single zip code whereas yours spanned entire continents.” Well there wasn’t much John could say to argue that point. He tried anyway.

“Listen, I slept with at the most two people at a time, not whole groups. Plus they were always female.” John felt it necessary to clarify the facts.

Sherlock looked directly at John, his voice serious, “Is that an argument for or against your prowess because it comes across as against. I experimented with every dynamic and combination I could manage during my brief time at Uni. I didn’t say I enjoyed doing it though there was of course a certain amount of pleasure to be gained but that’s not why I did it. Once I had tried a reasonable combination of lovers I decided that I had explored the subject thoroughly enough to make an educated decision about choosing celibacy and I did. None of my sexual encounters was satisfying to the degree that I would choose to do it again, that is until last night. After that I can’t imagine ever wanting anything else more than I want you John.”

The way Sherlock said the words, so flat, so definite, the tone alone more than the words he used let John know Sherlock was entirely sincere. John was surprised all over again and a little humbled, “You actually would have rather lived your whole life celibate except for me?”

“Yes John. Surely you realize that? In all the time we’ve known one another have I ever once taken a lover or expressed even the slightest interest in anyone physically? You are the only person in the world I can imagine being intimate with in any degree. To be physically engaged with you was like nothing I’d ever tried and you can believe I was extremely thorough when I did my tests. You were amazing.” again Sherlock’s voice was almost dry, colorless but something in the way he said the words floored John all over again because it seemed like Sherlock was trying to tell him something more than that John was a really great shag.

John didn’t know how to respond, “I don’t really like it when the others look at you. Whatever you get, make sure you cover up.” the words were out before John even thought about them. A little startled he turned himself about and went back to the kitchen. Sherlock had said nothing but John could hear his fingers flying over the keyboard so he was doing something. John’s phone chirped a text alert. When he read it he groaned.

“What is it?” Sherlock was of course monitoring John from the sofa. John heard the typing pause for a moment while Sherlock waited for an answer but as soon as John began to speak it started again.

“Harry. We’re having tea with mum and Aunt Gracie tomorrow. You’ll love it.” John had entirely forgotten about the annual date. He hadn’t gone last year and there was no way his family would let him skip two years in a row. John dreaded seeing his mother. She was going to go ballistic when John showed up with Sherlock. Who knew what her sister would say. Who knew what HIS sister would say. How would John explain everything? He hadn’t told his mother he wasn’t with Mary anymore. He hadn’t told anyone, not even Harry. He could barely think about what had happened. “You can wear a suit, you like suits.”

John wanted to drown in despair. How fucking awful. He and Sherlock hadn’t even been dating for a whole day and now he had to meet the most homophobic people in the country. Maybe he should just go alone. The train ride was only an hour. He could be back for a late supper with Sherlock after enduring tea with the family. “I’m not staying home alone John.”

God damn Sherlock and his Jedi mind tricks! How did he do that? “It’s going to be a nightmare Sherlock! You are the first man I’ve ever dated and my mum is going to be mental about it. You have no idea! If she had been against it before my sister came out she’s had years to perfect the mindless prejudice!” John loved his mother but she had some astounding blind spots. Same sex love was at the top of that list. “She was waiting for me to propose to Mary the last time I saw her.”

Mary. John had put her firmly out of his mind. She was a traitorous liar and had tricked John every way possible. Sherlock had saved John and had nearly lost his life doing so. John shuddered and tried to force the entire memory away, stuffing it deep down where he couldn’t see it anymore. He wasn’t ready to deal with how his trust had been shredded to pieces along with the part of his heart he had given to the woman he’d thought of as Mary Morstan.

Suddenly Sherlock was there and John found that he was on his knees and panting hard as he shook his way through a full blown panic attack, the first one he’d had since he moved back to 221 B. John’s fingers clawed at the floor and his vision was black as he tried to breathe. How could he trust anyone but Sherlock, Sherlock who had paid for John’s trust with his own blood more than once? Sherlock was with him now, his long thin arms like steel bands around John’s body, helping sooth the panic away with deep voiced croons and firm strokes of his hand down John’s spine. Slowly John was able to focus on what Sherlock was saying, “I’m here John. I promised I would never leave again and I won’t. I’m here John, I’ll always be here. I’m with you John, right here, right beside you. I’m here, I’m here, I’m here.”

John realized he’d been calling for Sherlock, gasping out his name. John’s arms went around Sherlock’s narrow chest, holding the thin man in a vice grip of his own. The heat of Sherlock’s body calmed John and he listened to the thunderous roar of Sherlock’ heartbeat, keeping his eyes closed so he could focus on the steady thrum of the blood rushing through his lover’s living body. John was shaky and his voice was rough, “I need to lie down.”

Sherlock helped John up and they went to Sherlock’s room. John felt sick to his stomach now. Sherlock curled up to his back and held him as tightly as he could. The heat from his long spare body soaked into John and helped him relax slowly. It was a long time before John felt able to speak, “Thank you.”

Sherlock kissed the back of John’s neck slowly. He pulled John over until he was lying on his back. Sherlock kissed John’s mouth gently. “You need to relax.” Sherlock relaxed John in the best possible way. With skillful tenderness Sherlock kissed his way over John’s body, pushing John’s clothes out of the way as much as possible. Deftly Sherlock undid John’s trousers, tugging them down only enough to release John. Without asking Sherlock bent his head and took John into his mouth.

John lost himself in the pleasure of it. Sherlock was unhurried and diligent. He knew exactly how to tease John, how to let him rise and fall so that the end was put off as long as possible. Sherlock was incredible, his long throat swallowing John down effortlessly, his mouth hot and wet and his tongue sinfully clever. Sherlock moaned encouragingly when John’s hips began to buck and when the doctor shouted his release Sherlock hummed with satisfaction as he swallowed repeatedly. John lay there with his eyes closed while Sherlock fixed his trousers and tugged down his shirt. John rolled to his side and Sherlock curled up against his back again, “Sleep John.” John slept.

When John woke an hour later Sherlock was still holding him. John was grateful for that. He wasn’t sure if he could have dealt with waking up alone. A deep rumbling snore let John know that Sherlock had managed to fall asleep as well. John lay there and thought about everything that had happened. He thought about the two years he had believed Sherlock was dead. He thought about how he had met Mary and had thought so many things that weren’t true. He thought about sitting by the hospital bed watching Sherlock breathe through a tube thanks to the bullet Mary had put in him and John thought of the bullet Sherlock had put through Magnusson’s head. John thought of Moriarty and all the things that had happened after that, the long complicated road that had led to today.

John rolled over carefully, trying and failing to not wake Sherlock. The man’s eyes were heavy when he looked down at John. John reached up and ran his finger down Sherlock’s cheek and over his lips. John was suddenly very, very grateful that Sherlock was here, right in front of him safe and unharmed. John felt all the emotions he had locked away for so long begin to push and shove for freedom. He held Sherlock tighter instead of speaking and kissed the man as hard as he could. “Thank you Sherlock.”

“Thanks for what? Triggering an episode? I’d rather not have thanks for that.” Sherlock sounded miserable. John looked closely at Sherlock and saw the sleepy look on his face was hiding upset and self-recrimination. “John, so many of the choices I have made in the last few years have cost you so much. I’ve hurt you in so many different ways I can’t even begin to make a tally for all that I need forgiveness for. When we first met I was proud that I’d helped you with your hip but for that one small pain that I took away I gave you a thousand more. How can you ever forgive me for any of it?”

John looked at Sherlock again and thought about Sherlock’s fears. “When I was on the floor just then, do you know what helped me? You Sherlock. You holding me and being there. I realized right then that you are the person I trust more than any soul on this planet. I know I can rely on you Sherlock, you’ve proven yourself to me too many times for me to ever doubt it. I don’t see our lives as what you’ve done to me! I see what other people have done to US and how you and I have had to deal with the results of other people’s schemes. We didn’t invent Moriarty. He found us and did what he did. Mary? I didn’t create her or make her choices. She made her own decisions as well. Magnusson? Well, nobody knows anything about him for certain but the same thing is true. He made his choices and put them on us. We’ve been the ones to pay the price together. I don’t think you spent two years fighting and running just for the thrill of it. I trust you Sherlock to be with me no matter what because there’s nothing left for anyone to do to us that can split us apart. Who do we trust besides each other? Mycroft?”

“Only fools and Lestrade trust Mycroft.” sneered Sherlock who clearly considered Lestrade to be a fool. John laughed softly, “I hear your words John but it doesn’t take the feeling away. I’ve wronged you and I’m sorry for it. I want to make it up to you but I don’t know how. Now you’re going to see your mother and I remember the stories you told me about Harry. Yet again I’ve become the reason you suffer.”

“No. You’re the reason I ever get to feel good. You bring me the best kind of happiness Sherlock. We’re still best friends, we still have a laugh together and we still do The Work. Those are the best parts of my life! The sex is just the icing on the cake.” Sherlock was smiling softly now as John continued to stroke his cheek.

“Well I hope you don’t want sex now because my arse is still killing me.” John couldn’t stop laughing and soon Sherlock joined him. They snuggled together. “I like this John, just being in bed with you and talking. I’m happy just holding you and you seem happy too.”

“I am. This is good for me too. My best moments have always been with you Sherlock. I look forward to that bit of our day when we can just relax together, watch some telly and just talk.” John’s stomach rumbled and both of them laughed again, “Take-away?”

They rolled out of bed, Sherlock moving slightly less stiffly than he had that morning. John called in an order and made some tea. He was very hungry now and still tired feeling from his panic attack earlier. Now that it was done he found he could face the idea of seeing his mother a lot easier, “The purple shirt.”

“You like that one. Is that what you want me to meet your mother in?” Sherlock was now standing in the doorway of the kitchen, leaning up against it with his arms crossed and a smile on his face. John nodded. “Are you sure that’s what you want John because you know how I am.”

“That’s exactly what I want Sherlock. I’m not pulling any punches when we go there. I’m not hiding you or what we are because that would make it seem that she is right when she is not. Harry and Clara might have made it if mum hadn’t been so hateful. Mum is a good woman but for things like this, well, I’m not hiding, that’s all I’m saying.” John squared his shoulders and a huge smile broke out on Sherlock’s face.

“That’s one of my favorite things about you John. You’re girding for war and I’ve always found it delicious.” Now Sherlock came up behind John and wrapped his arms around the shorter man, “Now I have the luxury of giving in to my impulses when you do that.”

Sherlock turned John’s head back and kissed him over his shoulder, both men twisted around so their mouths could meet. It was hot and wet, interrupted by the badly timed kettle. They broke apart with a laugh and Sherlock patted John’s behind and gave it a squeeze before he went back to the living room. John blushed. The kissing he could handle but little caresses like that made John grin stupidly.

John went to get their food when he heard the doorbell ring. Sherlock was moving easier but he wasn’t prepared to deal with stairs. John was a big smug about that. John was just dishing up when a thought finally wandered across his mind. “Sherlock, I know my pants and your socks have been matching….the other night you were wearing black pants.”

“I was John. Guess why.” John blushed again but laughed. His black socks! Sherlock was matching his pants with John’s socks too but John’s socks only came in black. Now John was very curious. How many pairs of black pants did Sherlock own? He asked.

“Sixty three pair.” said Sherlock who just began eating unlike John who sat there staring open-mouthed at the thought of sixty three pair of black men’s pants. “They’re all different.” Oh god.

John forced himself to eat though food wasn’t on his mind anymore. He couldn’t stop thinking about Sherlock’s pants. “I want to see them.” John’s plate was mysteriously empty. He’d eaten his whole meal and hadn’t noticed because of all the black pants that were dancing through John’s mind. “Model them for me.”

He wasn’t asking and Sherlock didn’t object. Rising with almost grace Sherlock went to his room and John followed. Sitting on the bed John then spent the next long while watching Sherlock try on one amazing pair of black pants after another. John learned a lot. For one, lace was definitely good on Sherlock. Another, there was no pair of pants that made Sherlock’s arse look anything but fuckable. Sherlock had everything from plain y-fronts to a ruffle covered confection that made John’s mouth go dry when Sherlock turned slowly in front of him.

The night ended wonderfully with Sherlock nearly attacking a thoroughly aroused John and pinning him to the bed. Covering the doctor in kisses Sherlock relieved them both of any hint of clothing. Pressing their hardness together Sherlock knelt over John and rocked his hips slowly until both men gasped and moaned, clawing at each other to try and hold back just a little longer. Their resolve was tested and failed completely as both of them shouted and bucked against each other.

John cleaned them up while Sherlock dozed on the bed. John felt good now, tired but ready to face their next steps. Tomorrow would be another busy day but they’d be together and John didn’t need more than that. Cuddling up to Sherlock who shamelessly snuggled back John covered them up warmly and allowed himself to drift to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So much happens to these two, their lives are never untroubled for long!


	7. Day Trip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's always interesting to introduce your sweetheart to your family. There's never anything awkward about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> qob23 - you wanted to see a particular line delivered. Here you go.

The most annoying part of their day was the early morning visit from Mycroft that resulted in Sherlock not having to say a word about the change in their relationship status since both men came out of Sherlock’s room tying their robes on. Sherlock’s hair was crazy and flattened on one side and his neck had a low-riding love bite that he made no effort to cover. A single raised eyebrow was all Mycroft offered by way of comment before he sat down and began quizzing Sherlock about the progress on Kirk. Once he was updated he refused the tea John half-heartedly offered and went away.

“It’s always great to start the day with Mycroft’s shining face.” grouched John. Mycroft always put John off his stride. He didn’t really hate Sherlock’s brother but he didn’t trust the twisty man one bit. “Sherlock, check for fresh bugs. Mycroft was in the room for three whole minutes unattended.”

Sherlock got up immediately and found four different ones. He crushed them underfoot and threw them away, “Well done John. He will be furious. I’ll make a regular thing of checking around.” John just shook his head and wondered about himself that he was compelled to think about things like being spied on in his own home by his lover’s brother.

“Is Mycroft a voyeur or something? He watches us a lot. Like an unhealthy amount.” Sherlock laughed merrily at John’s question.

“God I hope not or I can promise you that we’re never having sex in this flat ever again! No John, I’m afraid Mycroft is merely doing what he feels is necessary to keep track of me. He got into the habit when I was a junkie and it seems to agree with him because he’s never really stopped.” John went about making breakfast. Sherlock had never hidden the fact that he used to be a drug user but it was something John didn’t like to think about. He groaned when he realized something.

“We can’t pick up our clothes today; we’ll have to get them tomorrow. We need to be on the train in an hour or so.” Sherlock began to complain loudly, whining about how he’d paid extra to have everything ready for them and moaning on and on about how John had said they’d go. “Sherlock what do you think I’d rather be doing? Going around London picking up clothing that is likely to result in some rather spectacular sex between us or going back to see my mum and my ancient aunt to have tea with my sister?”

“Clothes.” said Sherlock quietly.

“Yes, I’d rather be getting the clothes. Please Sherlock; please this is going to be difficult for me.” Sherlock came right over and hugged John again.

“You’re right. I’m sorry. We can get everything tomorrow. Come on John. Let’s get ready.” Sherlock selected all of John’s clothes again, dressing them both so they were complimentary. He picked out a pair of rich purple pants for John to wear and produced matching socks for himself so when he donned his shirt Sherlock looked slinky and almost sultry. When Sherlock shrugged into his well-fitted jacket John had to take a minute just to take it all in.

Sherlock was equally impressed with John’s appearance and pressed himself up close to kiss John hotly and grope his behind extravagantly. John giggled as Sherlock felt him up like they were a pair of teenagers. “John. Fuck. Your ass is brilliant.” Sherlock kissed John messily and then broke away with a smirk.

“Thanks for doing that seconds before we have to leave!” John was aroused again but Sherlock just grinned wickedly and helped John into his coat. John grabbed himself a lush handful too before the door closed and Sherlock actually blushed. John was the one laughing now and Sherlock had to smack his hands away repeatedly as they made their way downstairs. They stopped to see Mrs. Hudson.

“We’re on our way to see John’s mother Mrs. Hudson. She’s going to hate me so I’ve popped by to be fortified.” Mrs. Hudson swatted Sherlock’s arm but gave him a big hug anyway and John as well.

“Why would she hate you Sherlock? I thought you got on with John’s family.” John sighed.

“Sherlock’s only heard of them, they’ve never met. Mum doesn’t like London and Harry hasn’t come to the city to visit for years. I go to see them, like we’re doing today to see my aunt, my mum and Harry with Sherlock.” John and Sherlock looked at one another and Mrs. Hudson clapped her hands together with delight.

“FINALLY! Oh! I don’t see why your mum wouldn’t just LOVE Sherlock to pieces. Oh, I’ll have to tell Mrs. Turner she lost her bet.” Sherlock started laughing at Mrs. Hudson’s reaction and John just covered his eyes with his hands. The rival landladies had a bet going on about him and Sherlock.

John uncovered his face and looked at her, “How much did you win?” Mrs. Hudson did some counting up.

“Well, let’s see. There was Mrs. Turner, a few others down at the center, some regulars from Speedy’s, the Chinese restaurant down the street, the Tandoori place, oh, all the local taxi drivers, everyone in that nice Detective Inspector’s division and let me think, oh yes, Mycroft. I guess when it all adds up I think I’ve made a couple thousand quid.” Now John was laughing. That was quite the pool and Mycroft had bet against them! It also took care of them passing their news along. Nothing gossiped faster than the landlady network.

Soon enough John and Sherlock were on the train and making their way to John’s mum’s house. “Her name is Charity. My grandparents wanted to have all the virtues but they only had the two daughters, Grace and Charity. Aunt Grace is the eldest. She and mum don’t really get along but they still get together for this annual tea. 

“I’ll be fine John and I'll even promise to behave. I’m sure the afternoon will be well.” Sherlock took John’s hand and held it. John realized they’d never done something like that before but he liked it. It was simple but it meant so much. He tangled his fingers with Sherlock’s and hung on tight. They just watched the scenery go by, relaxing as much as they were able. When they got to the station Harry was there to pick them up. She took one look at their linked hands and punched Sherlock in the face.

“You jackass! What have you done?” Harry was shouting already, her loud coarse voice ringing through the station. Harry and John looked a lot alike. They had the same sandy blond hair, the same dark blue eyes but Harry had all the height. She was three inches taller than her brother and statuesque. “What happened to Mary? Mum is waiting for her!”

Sherlock was holding a handkerchief to his cheek. John was furious. “Harriet Watson WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING? Sherlock, are you alright?” John checked Sherlock’s cheek. It was red and might possibly bruise but there wasn’t much swelling. As a response Harry punched John in the back of his bad shoulder and he grunted with pained surprise.

Suddenly Harry was pinned to the wall of the station and Sherlock was snarling down at her, “John’s shoulder is damaged so kindly refrain from hitting him you drunken little cunt or I will make each and every moment of today a fucking hell for you, understand?” John groaned when he realized Harry was indeed drunk. Already today was a wash. She was staring at Sherlock mutinously.

“Harry, you had better not be driving drunk! Give me your keys, right now.” She scowled but handed over her keys, “What were you thinking? It’s not even half-two in the afternoon and you’re tits up.” Why did she do this? Couldn’t she have waited until AFTER John had left to get drunk? It seemed to John that each and every family event was now colored with his sister’s negative habits.

“Shut the fuck up golden boy. Mum’s been riding my arse all morning. It’s been Mary this and Mary that for fucking DAYS now. Where is Mary? Does she know Sherlock’s been giving it to you?” Harry was a nasty drunk. John tried to ignore her but her taunting questions continued. “Bet that must be fun. Is it the three of you then? Sherlock, how did you get her to hand John over? They were thick as fucking thieves when we saw them last. Doesn’t that bother you Sherlock? John was engaged to be married or did Sherlock get in with you before you proposed John, is that what happened?”

Once they located her car John made Harry sit in the back so Sherlock could sit up front with him. Harry’s less than pleasant questions just got ruder. John gripped the wheel and concentrated on driving. He made a note to thank Sherlock for restraining himself so well because he knew the detective probably had at least thirteen different plans to torture Harry already thought up. The drive took ten of the longest minutes of John’s life and then they were there.

Harry didn’t hold herself back for a second. She barged into the house shouting for her mother, “Mum. John’s gone gay. He’s with a bloke now. How’s that! You hated Clara so much wait till you see this one.” So much for breaking it to his mother gently! John turned and looked up at Sherlock in dismay but Sherlock just winked at John and gave him a quick kiss. 

With a rueful shake of his head and a small smile John took Sherlock’s hand again and led him into the house, his back straight and his head held high. He wasn’t ashamed of Sherlock or anything they did together. He was just unhappy that his sister had taken it upon herself to reveal them so crudely. When she’d come out John had been supportive and kind, helping her through the fallout with their mother. Well, it wasn’t the first time John’s efforts with his sister had been wasted. Harry made Mycroft look like a fantastically caring sibling.

The drawing room was filled with overstuffed furniture and a lot of lace. John led Sherlock over to his mother, “Mum.” he bent and kissed her wrinkled cheek and endured her astounded glare. Aunt Grace was sitting on the sofa next to her sister and she seemed shocked. Both women were wearing light blue print dresses with a minimum of lace at their throats. They looked ready to go to church. John wasn’t fooled. They looked like this all the time. “Mum, Aunt Grace, this is my boyfriend, Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock, this is my mother Charity Watson and her sister, Grace Wells.”

John’s mother didn’t wait to hear Sherlock’s attempted greeting, “John Hamish Watson what is the meaning of this? Where is Mary? I had a surprised arranged for her! Is this a joke? Did Harry put you up to this? Harry what were you thinking? First that Clara person and now… is that your real name young man, Sherlock? What kind of name is that? What am I supposed to tell the church group? They’re coming for tea with the pastor! Everyone is going to be here in a couple of minutes. Where is Mary? John? Tell me right now.”

Harry was laughing nastily, not caring that she’d outed her brother. “That’s his name mum. He’s the bloke John has been living with in London, the detective one. Remember? We thought he was dead? You died right? Then John was with Mary. So, where’s Mary John?” John’s mother repeated the question and Aunt Grace looked almost sympathetic. John was beginning to breathe harder as they pecked at him one after the other. Sherlock stepped up and put a gentle hand on John’s shoulder; John felt better immediately.

Sherlock’s voice was smooth and posh, “Mrs. Watson, my name is indeed Sherlock Holmes. As you must know John has been my flat-mate for over five years now. I’m also his best friend and yes, people did believe I was dead but I clearly am not. As for the woman you are asking about, Mary is no more.” John had to sit. Sherlock helped him into a chair and Grace looked sharply at them.

“What does that mean ‘no more’. Did Mary die? Oh John. Is that what happened? She died and you went mad. Oh my poor son! Get away from him you perverse monster!” now John’s mother was giving Sherlock dark looks and John’s head snapped up, unwilling to let his mother treat him the way she’d treated his sister.

“She’s not dead mum. She never existed. The person we thought was Mary Morstan was a figment, a fakery. She was….well she wasn’t who she said she was, not even close. She’s gone because she was never really here. Sherlock IS here and here he will stay. We’re together and no, I haven’t gone mad. Don’t ever call Sherlock a monster or any of the names I know you have waiting. If you start I am going to walk right out of here with him and I promise you to never return.” A horn honked outside. John realized his mother’s church group had arrived. Harry was laughing by the window, clearly enjoying John’s situation.

Sherlock had remained particularly quiet during all of this but he didn’t leave John’s side, indeed it seemed like Sherlock was poised, just waiting to attack the next person that said one wrong word to John. Mrs. Watson pulled on her politest face and smiled cheerfully at all the arrivals. Soon the room was full and the introductions were beginning. Aunt Grace accepted one of the cups of tea Harry was being forced to hand out. 

Smiling at the pastor who was now seated next to her Aunt Grace said, "Have you heard about our John? He's a gay man now. This is his Sherlock. They live together in London!” The silence was stunning. Charity sat there with the most horrified of expressions but Grace just sipped her tea. 

Sighing with resignation at what was about to happen, John turned to look at the only man to arrive with the group. The man cleared his throat and addressed John directly, “Young John, I was given to understand you were engaged to a woman named Mary. Indeed, that’s why I was invited today, to pray with you on your upcoming union.” the very reverend Pastor Clarence was a rotund man with wind-reddened cheeks and a hearty appearance. Right now he looked concerned and a little uncomfortable.

Sherlock leaned forward with a pleasant smile, “That’s very kind of you pastor. John and I would appreciate a prayer. Perhaps the next time we’re shot or stabbed it won’t be so bad. What do you think John?” Sherlock sat on the arm of John’s chair and put his hand on John’s shoulder again.

Aunt Grace piped up again, “John keeps a blog. I’ve been reading it for years. Sherlock has been our John’s partner since he came back from the war. They solve crimes!” This got a lot of oohs of interest and John just looked at his aunt in amazement and Aunt Grace WINKED at him! His mother was livid but silent.

One old lady raised her hand to ask, “You mean like Matlock or Jessica Fletcher?” American reruns were very popular these days. John almost started laughing.

Sherlock sounded serious and John had to smile up at him when he heard Sherlock say, “I don’t know who those people are but John and I are Consulting Detectives, the only ones in the world. We take cases that New Scotland Yard can’t solve as well as private cases that have been impossible to crack. John is a doctor and he used to be a soldier so he keeps me alive; the criminals we deal with aren’t gentle. We deal with only the very worst cases.” There was a chorus of impressed noises.

“The Queen hires them!” reported Aunt Grace who delivered this news with the reverence of someone presenting the Holy Grail. Everyone sat back and gasped in wonder. Grace looked at her sister who looked disbelieving. “Charity, do you even read the papers? It was years ago, our John and Sherlock were all over the news! How can you not know what your only son is doing?”

“We work mostly for the British Government these days but John is friends with the Detective Inspector so we get a lot of cases from the Yard but only if they’re really good.” Sherlock had them. All the old ladies and even the pastor leaned in as Sherlock began telling them about some of the cases they worked. He painted John as a hero who stepped in over and over again to save Sherlock from one horrible fate after another. Finally all the tea cakes were gone and the tea pot was empty.

“It sounds so dangerous. Do you ever get hurt?” Pastor Clarence was completely engrossed. 

Sherlock nodded seriously, “My John was hurt most recently, thanks Harry for striking him at the train station before you even said hello, as for injuries we seem to take turns. Someone stabbed him with a pair of knitting needles. I was very put out.” John squeezed Sherlock’s hand when he was called ‘my John’. His heart beat faster and he felt warm and tingly inside. He gave Sherlock a happy smile.

John’s mother was sitting there with her mouth hanging open. “You were STABBED? Why didn’t you tell me John? Why would you let me find out like this?”

John didn’t know what to tell his mother but Grace did. “If you shut your telly off for ten seconds and looked around you’d see that your children have done very well for themselves. Why even poor Harry was doing so good before you chased her Clara away! Why would you do that to your baby Charity? Clara was so nice and she loved Harriet so much. They were properly married and everything.”

Pastor Clarence was new to the parish and looked around, “The church isn’t the same as it used to be. We have many lovely couples who aren’t exactly traditional. We welcome everyone. We are all God’s children and are made in His image.”

“Mum I don’t call you when I get hurt because I have a dangerous job. We get hurt a lot. As Sherlock reminded you I am a doctor and a soldier. I’ve chosen this life and it’s a good one. Sherlock is my best friend and has been for a long time. I know you had your heart set on Mary but that’s never going to happen. You didn’t even come to see me when I got back from Afghanistan. I figured you just didn’t want to know.” Now Charity was getting a lot of looks from the other parishioners.

Sherlock was angry. “John and I met after he recovered from being shot. We met and became friends the very first day and I asked him to share my flat with me. We got along and I discovered he was a rather amazing assistant for my Work. He helps me solve crimes and he is the one in charge of taking care of the bad people we catch. It’s taken me years to win him over.”

Now the old ladies were giggling and blushing and giving Sherlock flirting tips which he listened to very carefully. One sweet old lady asked tremulously, “Are you working on a dangerous case right now?”

“Oh yes. A VERY dangerous one. In only two days John and I must go undercover to try and catch a villain who has the entirety of London within his grasp. The tools he uses are unspeakable. John of course will be in charge of the actual operation. We have to wear special equipment and everything. I can’t tell you more, of course you understand.”

All of them nodded, of course they understood, they’d watched spy movies before. John was astounded and grateful for Sherlock for pulling out every scrap of charm he had. Even Harry had been listening closely, fascinated with some of the stories and enjoying herself despite how the afternoon had started. John had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing at Sherlock’s description of the case, which, while entirely true, still managed to completely obscure the fact that they planned to spend the evening dressed in skin tight leather while watching people whip or be whipped for pleasure. He wondered what his mother and Aunt Grace would think of that.

“Will you be writing this one up on your blog John?” asked Aunt Grace and John shook his head immediately. How could he write about their progression to a D/s relationship sparked by a visit to a BDSM club?

Sherlock rescued him all over again, “John isn’t always able to write about our work. I’m afraid this case will be one of those no one really gets to hear about. Consider yourselves privileged.” everyone in the church group was flattered and excited to be in on the secret and John had to bite the inside of his cheek again.

By the time they were ready to leave Pastor Clarence was getting the name of John’s blog and organising a reading evening for seniors’ night where they could all enjoy John and Sherlock’s adventures. John’s mum came up to him as he and Sherlock were putting on their coats. “John. John I don’t exactly know what to say. I’m disappointed in you my son. I love you but I can’t approve of your decision. That’s not what’s important though. Even though I don’t like it Charity is right. You’re happy with this person and that’s what’s important. I have to go speak with your sister now and see if I can do something to help her after everything I caused to happen. I’m sorry John.” She hugged him and just looked at Sherlock before walking away. 

The rest of the visitors filed by to say their farewells and then Harry took them to the train station. When they got to the station Harry tried to hug John but he stepped back so she just said glumly, “Mum wants to talk about Clara, like that’s going to help.” Clara had divorced Harry and moved away. “I guess it’s a start. John, about when you got here…”

John cut her off brusquely, “I don’t want to hear it Harry. You’re always a bitch when you drink. I wish you’d stop but since I’ve asked you a thousand times already I’m not bothering anymore. You’re just lucky that things went as smooth as they did today and you’re better be extra nice to aunt Grace because she saved your fucking ass tonight. Your fucking mouth and those fucking fists are what drove Clara away, not anything mum had to say. Think about that. You’ve gotten into the habit of hitting first and drinking later. You need to sort your life out. Don’t bother calling me until next year okay? Thanks for the lift.”

Harry looked furious and her fists did curl up but she kept them by her sides. Sherlock looked at Harry, “Don’t try anything rash to get back at John for what he just said. He’s been keeping a leash on me but believe me when I say there is absolutely no way anyone would ever be able to prove I had anything to do with what might mysteriously happen to you. Don’t push me Harriet. I’m not nice like your brother.”

Sherlock put his arm around John’s shoulder and led him onto the waiting train. Harry was gone before they reached their seats and John’s fingers were digging into his palm. Sherlock sounded pleased, “That was very enjoyable. I can’t wait until you meet my family. It will be equally delightful.”

“You are a crazy man.” stated John who still wasn’t feeling very happy with the world. He felt queasy again. He didn’t like upsetting his mother and he didn’t particularly enjoy how Harry had told everyone about them no matter how Sherlock had managed to charm them. John was worried he might have another panic attack on board the train and the thought of doing so made everything so much worse.

“John does your family know you have PTSD?” Sherlock’s voice was soft and John shook his head. “Do they know anything about you after you came home?” John shook his head again, “Just me?” John nodded. Sherlock was the only person apart from John’s therapist to have taken the time to find out how John had handled being invalided out of Afghanistan. He’d helped John through nightmares time and again, patiently waiting for John’s terrors to pass and never once complaining about the screaming.

Sherlock put his arm around John. John turned a bit and rested his head on Sherlock’s shoulder, breathing him in. Sherlock let John close his eyes and calm himself down on the ride home. By the time they were back the short walk from the tube to their flat was enough for John to lose the last of the anxiety he had been feeling.

“You were great tonight Sherlock. You didn’t deduce anyone out loud, you handled mum and Harry, you won over the church group and nobody needed to call an ambulance. It was one of our better nights really.” Sherlock chuckled softly and hugged John’s shoulders as the approached their home. They hadn’t even gotten their door unlocked when Sherlock’s phone chimed, “Case John!” Sherlock got another taxi and pushed John inside. It was dawn before they got back, laughing and covered with sludge from The Thames. Running through the muck in the darkness and tackling a rampaging fisherman was just what John had needed. After a brief shower both men simply fell into bed together and slept happily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The club is calling, time to get ready for The Work


	8. Red Pants

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The shift in their relationship is beginning to show as John and Sherlock go around London getting ready for tomorrow night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I could not resist the lure of Red Pants Monday

Sherlock was already up and running around the flat when John finally woke early in the afternoon. “John our things are ready. John, get up. John I think I melted the kettle.” That got John right out of bed and into the kitchen where he saw Sherlock dousing the kettle in the sink. “Don’t ask. Shall we go out for breakfast?”

John was chased upstairs where Sherlock had already laid out jeans and a jumper for John; today’s pants a pair of rainbow of colored checks. After a brief shower John got dressed and went back downstairs where Sherlock was waiting impatiently by the door, “I need tea John.”

“Well if you hadn’t melted the kettle we’d be having tea.” They went to a small breakfast place that smelled of fresh ground coffee and new baking. John ordered a selection of pastries and made Sherlock eat two. After that they went to the store to find a new kettle. Sherlock was impatient to deliver it back to the flat but soon as they had Sherlock was dragging John off to the claim the items he had ordered. 

John vetoed over half of it and demanded a store credit or exchange for nearly everything Sherlock had chosen for him. “Sherlock I’m not wearing assless chaps! Nothing intimate on you or me is going to be exposed, alright?” That made the shopkeeper nearly as pouty as Sherlock who came over and began to recite a list of facts and figures at John but the smaller man simply stood up and firmly said, “No.” Sherlock’s mouth snapped shut and meekly he allowed John to go over his options until they found an outfit John wasn’t horrified with.

John made the shop attendant go over a variety of things, explaining their use and variables while Sherlock followed quietly behind them. Each time the sale clerk tried to lead John into another purchase the doctor refused firmly and made the clerk go back to John’s preferences. When John was satisfied he nodded to Sherlock who immediately fell to choosing from among the selection John had approved of. When he was done Sherlock looked at John who nodded before he paid for everything. Taking John’s hand Sherlock allowed John to lead him out of the store and onto the street. Sherlock leaned over close to John’s ear, “After that display I’m going to have to insist we return to our flat with all possible speed.”

“Why?” John was making a list in his head of things they needed to get for their kitchen. They had to get some shopping done as well as other chores; they couldn’t put things off forever. Sherlock leaned in further and licked the shell of John’s ear unexpectedly.

“I’m more than recuperated enough to want to see if you can do that to me a second time. John you absolutely must take me home RIGHT NOW. I want to have sex.” Well John was a very considerate man and Sherlock looked like he was in a great state of agitation. With a smile they got a taxi and made it back to Baker Street with all possible haste.

When they got to the flat John pinned Sherlock to the door and kissed him until Sherlock was sliding down it, his legs completely useless. John rather enjoyed the effect his kisses had on Sherlock. The man was so arrogant all the time, always ahead of the game and on top of everything. He outwitted the entire world but when John Watson got his lips on him Sherlock Holmes was putty. John liked that a lot.

Sherlock was shaking gently again, he was so responsive to John’s touch! John kissed Sherlock, sinking lower and lower until Sherlock was sitting on the floor and John was kneeling in front of him, his mouth demanding and relentless. “Bedroom Sherlock.” ordered John and Sherlock whimpered, staring at John with lust blackened eyes.

“Yes John.” Sherlock managed to get up off the floor and followed John to the bedroom. With trembling fingers Sherlock got himself undressed while John watched him. When Sherlock peeled off his last layer John made him remove John’s clothes. Being told what to do made Sherlock nearly as wobbly as John’s kisses.

John laid Sherlock back on the bed and looked him over. He was hungry for this man, eager to take him over and over again. Sherlock was beautiful, so pale and lean. Every bit of him was cream and roses. John leaned over and gently licked over Sherlock’s chest. Immediately Sherlock’s nipples hardened and Sherlock gave a weak sounding moan. “God you’re just so amazing!” breathed John. Sherlock’s entire body seemed wired to respond to John. “Anything I do to you gets a reaction, fucking beautiful.”

“John, please. I want you.” the naked need in Sherlock’s voice made John growl and that made Sherlock almost puddle into the mattress. He had been reaching up for John to pull him close but with that one primal noise Sherlock’s arms whumped onto the blankets like he’d lost control of them. “Oh!”

“Just gagging for it aren’t you?” whispered John as he began his assault. Sherlock’s small cries were almost inaudible as John began to nibble and lick his way from Sherlock’s navel back up to Sherlock’s mouth. When John took it Sherlock tasted sweet and his tongue danced madly with John’s. “How’d you hide this from me for so long?” wondered John.

“I had to John. You weren’t gay. I thought you were hitting on me the first time we went out to eat and I panicked and overdid my response. I thought I’d closed the door on it permanently. Remember when I was sitting in the back of that ambulance and you were just standing in the street? Lestrade was there and when I looked at you and saw what you had done for me, you’d shot the cabbie, oh my god John. Do you have any idea how close you came to being sucked off in the middle of the street?”

“I’m glad it all worked out.” John was smiling back at Sherlock whose eyes were shining again. He looked so incredibly happy that John felt light and filled with joy. Things got playful as they rolled around the bed together, kissing and biting, licking and stroking. It was intense but fun as well, the teases and joking never really stopping even when John finally began to prepare Sherlock. When John pushed inside though Sherlock lost all ability to speak, “You like that, don’t you gorgeous?”

Sherlock nodded and trembled a bit. He was flushed all over now; the skin at his neck reddened where John had worried it with his teeth, the flesh around his nipples almost bruised looking with teeth marks. John fucked Sherlock slowly, keeping it deep and powerful. Sherlock was sighing and holding John’s hips but John pulled away, “Ride me.”

John was on his back in an instant, Sherlock’s long legs swinging over John to kneel on either side of the man. Sherlock watched John’s face as he reached behind himself to line John up. The look on Sherlock’s face as he sank down was glorious. Each little shift of expression, the way his mouth dropped open and the little broken gasps he released, all were arousing but not nearly as arousing as the fully seated moan that Sherlock made as his head fell back and his whole body seemed to ripple with pleasure. “John! The way you feel inside me. It’s like nothing I’ve ever experienced. Oh John!”

John lay back, “I want to see you come on me Sherlock. Use me to make yourself come so I can watch.” Sherlock’s eyes grew wide and he let out a broken gasp of pure desire. His eyes were black and as wild looking as his hair which was now springing crazily around Sherlock’s head. Sherlock began to move slowly, allowing John to re-enter his body gently until he’d found a rhythm he liked. He kept looking over John and John realized that the sight of his body was arousing Sherlock. His realization was confirmed when Sherlock began reaching down to touch different parts of him fleetingly, running his fingertips over John’s chest hair or down his treasure trail, over his nipples or toying with his scars.

Sherlock began to move faster and took himself in hand after slicking himself with lube. He kept his strokes slow, mostly working his shaft and occasionally tugging at his testicles. Eventually though he was stroking harder, allowing his hand to swirl over his cockhead as he began to drive downward with increasing speed. John was gritting his teeth to hold himself back. He could have come a dozen times already just from seeing Sherlock’s face as he pleasured himself.

Sherlock was moving fast. He rocked his hips swiftly, his moans increasing in volume and rose in pitch. Sherlock’s cheeks were heavily flushed now and his whole body was drenched in sweat. His ribs flared out rhythmically as he panted and his eyebrows were beginning to climb upward into a pleasured frown. His body was gripping John tighter than ever and John hoped he could last just a little bit longer. Sherlock’s voice was shaking when he looked down one last time, “Beautiful John, you’re so beautiful.” With a ragged gasp Sherlock began to come, his lilting cries echoing off the walls to be cut with John’s guttural grunts of release as they came together. John barely managed to keep his eyes open as he witnessed the come jet from Sherlock’s cock and how Sherlock’s spine seemed to twist as he came apart above John.

They lay quietly with each other for a very long time. Sherlock kept his head on John’s chest but the rest of his body was sprawled all over the bed so he could cool down. Both men were relaxed and content to just enjoy the euphoric aftermath for as long as it would last. They could have spent the rest of the night except that someone began knocking on their door. “FUCK!” John was irritated.

Sherlock bit John’s nipple lightly and then kissed his mouth, “I’ll get it. You clean up and get dressed. Bloody good shag John that was incredible.” Sherlock kissed John’s grin with a cheeky smirk before he slide off the bed and tottered to the door to grab his robe. It was John’s turn to smirk as Sherlock attempted to walk like he hadn’t just been split wide open. Sherlock wasn’t very successful but the almost goofy grin on his face told John that Sherlock really didn’t mind.

John kept the shower brief and redressed swiftly, laughing at the red pants Sherlock had draped on top of his folded clothes. Lestrade was out front with a handful of files that he told John were associated with Kirk’s side-businesses. Sherlock was sitting on the sofa, his curls still stuck to his forehead with dried sweat and rather telling marks on his chest from John’s teeth. He was reading the files while Lestrade stood there. “Sherlock, go clean up. I’ll make some tea.”

Greg was astounded to see Sherlock just put the files down and wobble away. Two minutes later they heard the shower going and John put the kettle on. Greg came to the kitchen, “Sherlock just did something without arguing. How?”

“We’ve had a bit of a talk is all. What’s happening with you and Mycroft?” Greg quickly told John how Mycroft had moved Greg into his townhouse while Lestrade was at work. He’d gone back to his flat to find it cleaned and entirely empty. John was laughing, “Where’s all your stuff?”

“He stuck it all in a warehouse and made me sort through it all with a team of decorators. I only kept the sentimental stuff and some of my clothes. Mycroft donated everything away after telling me it was an unspeakable crime against furnishings everywhere. I can’t imagine my old sofa in Myc’s house anyway. Having a butler is a bit weird though, that will take some getting used to.”

“So you’re living together? All sorted out?” Greg had a huge shit-eating grin on his face and John had to laugh with him. He was glad that things were working out for Greg. Mycroft’s street cred rose a couple of points for John.

“It will be rough. We both work a lot. He doesn’t always get a chance to tell me he’s going away and that will be an issue but Anthea is going to be put to use running messages so if Myc can’t tell me she can at least let me know I’ve got the house to myself for a month or whatever. Yeah, that shit actually happens. I can’t say I like it but how many times did I leave my wife behind for days if not weeks? If Myc is willing to put up with my fucked up life I’ll put up with his.” There was that quality that John always admired in Greg Lestrade, the ability to work with the hand he was dealt. Greg was adaptable and a survivor. He would have been a good soldier if the law hadn’t caught him first.

Sherlock came out wearing a dark suit and red socks. John grinned and Sherlock winked. Greg shook his head in amusement, “It’s about time. You know your landlady is shaking down half of London? All she needs is one of those bags with a giant dollar sign on the side, she’s a right bandit.” 

“I had no idea our private life was such a topic of speculation.” said Sherlock airily. John rolled his eyes. Who was Sherlock trying to fool? Them becoming a couple had been a topic of hot debate since the day they’d met. “How much did you lose?”

“Lose? Who said I lost? We’re splitting the pot when she gets all the marks in.” John laughed and Greg just made that shark grin of his even bigger. “I knew it was just a matter of time John. You changed that man the day you met; it’s all been just a matter of time.”

Sherlock was pretending that he wasn’t listening but John knew he was. Sherlock’s ears had turned a bit pink at the tips; he was pleased but didn’t want to show it. John rolled his eyes, went over to Sherlock and just kissed him hard, “I like you just the way you are, don’t change too much, alright?”

“Alright John.” said Sherlock whose eyes were bright and shining again. John found that this was fast becoming his favorite expression of Sherlock’s and became determined to see that look as often as possible. John really didn’t want Sherlock to change very much, his eccentricities and idiosyncratic behaviors were what kept John interested. Sherlock was brilliant and unusual, one-of-a-kind and John felt extremely lucky. He kissed Sherlock again and rejoined Greg in the kitchen.

“It’s Trivia Night down at the pub. You should bring Sherlock. You two would clean up.” That sounded more like John’s idea of fun than spending the night watching Sherlock read. Sherlock complained about having to go out but only out of habit because he helped John into his coat and gave him a kiss on the cheek as he straightened John’s collar. They all stopped in to say good evening to Mrs. Hudson on their way out and ate the cookies she gave them on the way to the pub.

It was fun at first. Sherlock got excited when he saw his name on the board but immediately offended nearly everyone around them as he began shouting insults at the screen. Not many people knew the science questions and the pop culture segments stymied him every time. It wasn’t until after Greg had left for the evening that things got a bit rough when a group of rather intoxicated men came over and began jeering at the couple in their booth.

John was a local and he’d been coming to that pub for a long time. Though he’d never once been there with a man on a date John had brought many of his female dates here and he was known. It was gratifying to see the other regular pub goers jump up to interfere with what was clearly an alcohol motivated fight between the group of strangers and the two men they thought should be elsewhere. The instant the first homophobic insult was heard the group of men were done for. Unceremoniously they were rushed out of the pub by the bouncer and a lot of helping hands. No one said a word to John or Sherlock but two drinks appeared on their table and the bartender gave them a wink. Everyone went back to the Trivia game like nothing had happened and Sherlock stopped shouting insults. John grinned and gave him a kiss which made Sherlock’s eyes bright once more.

They walked home slowly and John was surprised when Sherlock cut through an alley, “There’s something I’ve always wanted to do to you John, usually when we’re on a case.” John groaned as Sherlock pushed John against the brick wall and crouched in front of him. “I picked these pants especially for tonight John. They’re my favorite.”

Sherlock tugged them down just enough. He looked up at John would couldn’t stop watching how it looked when Sherlock’s mouth was stretched over his cock as Sherlock sucked him off in a dark dirty alley. John tangled his fingers in Sherlock’s curls and Sherlock purred, encouraging John to take hold and begin moving on his own. John groaned even more as he tentatively thrust his hips. Sherlock just closed his eyes for a moment before opening them and looking straight up at John. It was too dark to see more than the larger details but John somehow felt like he could see into Sherlock’s soul right then, as if the darkness had taken away all the barriers in their vision and connected them by sight.

Sherlock’s mouth was hot and wet, he took all of John in easily, never once gagging or coughing even though John began to pull him harder and faster. John realized Sherlock’s shoulder was moving and he understood that Sherlock had released himself and was masturbating even as he sucked off his lover. Not wanting to frighten people on the street John muffled his moans. His head thumped back painfully when Sherlock sucked a bit harder than John had expected and triggered John’s orgasm. Sherlock pushed himself all the way down on John’s cock, his own groans making it nearly impossible for John to stay quiet as the vibration from Sherlock’s deep voice made John’s cock throb with nearly unbearable pleasure.

John panted into the night as Sherlock managed to get back up and slumped against his doctor. “You have no idea how many times I’ve wanted to do that John. Every time we’ve ever been in an alley together I’ve thought of it.”

“We’ll make up for it.” promised John. There were a lot of alleys in London. It could take the rest of their lives but it was a goal John was willing to work for. Happy and content the pair made their way back to 221 B Baker street. The shopping was ignored after tea was made. The day had been long and filled with delights and for another night both men simply tumbled into bed together and fell fast asleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Their outfits are purchased and one of Sherlock's little thrills has been exposed. What will we learn when they go to The Club tomorrow?


	9. Whips Wednesday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Sherlock have a case to solve and that means going to The Club again.

John had a short shift the next day, just a few hours in between other doctors at the clinic. He liked the time he worked as a doctor, he enjoyed helping people but he still stopped off with scheduling and made sure he wasn’t called more than twice a week at most. Tasks completed John made his way back to Baker Street and Sherlock. Thoughts of being back with his insane friend made John walk faster and kept a smile on his face.

Sherlock wasn’t home. He’d left a hand-written note on the kitchen table though, that was different, “don’t make plans, maybe dinner 7 Angelo’s?” Alright, Sherlock was probably off doing all the secretive things he needed to do with the Homeless network so John texted him. “You need help? ETA”

“Finished ETA 10 minutes.” John put the kettle on and made two cups of tea. As soon as they were ready he heard Sherlock thundering up the stairs. He was flushed but smiled hugely when he saw John and came right over for a kiss. “I was at the morgue returning what was left of the hands. Molly had some new parts but she wouldn’t let me take any this time so I had to stay and look there.”

Well John wasn’t unhappy that their fridge was temporarily missing something revolting. In fact it was even cleaned. John looked around at the flat suddenly, “You tidied?” Sherlock grinned and nodded.

“Over the years I’ve observed your activities and you always start cleaning the flat after you come home from work and tonight I want to relax with you before we go to The Club. I don’t want you distracted.” John knew Sherlock probably had a spreadsheet somewhere detailing everything about John. The man was compulsive about collecting data. Learning that Sherlock was using this information to please John made the doctor feel happily warm inside and out.

They had tea and a small plate of biscuits and settled on the sofa to flip around the telly and cuddle together on the couch. Sherlock loved tender affection and John realized that the man probably had never once in his life been given an opportunity to just laze around with someone he was intimate with and just enjoy their time. John pulled a protesting Sherlock close once more and let him snuggle up tight. Sherlock resisted for a moment, purely on principle before he gave in and sagged all over John. Finally Sherlock looked up at John from where he was splayed out on the sofa, “John would you shave me again?”

They ended up in the shower together while John ran a razor deftly over Sherlock skin, removing all the stubble that had grown until his entire body was smooth. Soon Sherlock was entirely erect so John stayed on his knees after he finished Sherlock’s legs and made Sherlock come so hard he nearly ripped the shower curtain right off the rod. Laughing a bit they struggled to shut the water off and Sherlock had to slump cross-legged on the shower floor while John cleaned up the water they had still managed to get everywhere. After that Sherlock pinned the doctor to the bathroom door and used his talented hands on John, kissing the moans from his lips until John came with a long drawn out moan and needed to wash all over again.

Dressing was a bit of an adventure. They decided go to Angelo’s another night and just ordered in, feeding each other bites of food as they got ready. They needed to help one another with some of the more awkward buckles and they were interrupted a lot when each man failed to resist the urge to bite or suck or in some other way interfere with their lover getting dressed. It was late in the evening by the time Sherlock was kneeling in front of John, settling the very last buckle into place. Sherlock helped John on with his long black coat and John slipped Sherlock into his obscuring cape.

The club was full but tonight there wasn’t such an array of fetishes. Tonight was Whips Wednesday and so the club was filled with a very specialized clientele. John saw a lot of bared skin but not as much as Saturday night and people were clearly in couples or more, there were no singles at all. John looked around as he shrugged out of his coat and this time he undid Sherlock’s cape for him, catching his lover’s eye as John pulled it off of Sherlock dramatically.

There was a susurrus of appreciative sounds as the crowd close by as everyone took in Sherlock. As promised nothing intimate on him was showing but his back was entirely bared, the pale expanse of it calling temptingly to everyone who cared to look. Sherlock didn’t need glitter to make everyone look at him, he was creamy and perfect. Sherlock’s front was covered with two broad pieces of thin woven leather. The leather was twisted and wrapped together in a complex pattern and the rigid assembly joined together low on Sherlock’s back to buckle tight. A broad leather collar with rounded studs covered his long neck; a heavy ring set in it was aligned with Sherlock’s spine. Sherlock had put styling wax in his hair so the curled tips looked sharp but still managed to bounce as he moved.

Sherlock’s narrow hips were spanned with a wide leather belt heavy with more rounded studs and provided a place for his leather leggings to begin. His ass was covered tightly; the only access via a zipper that ended on a silver lock matched with John’s key. The leggings were laced onto Sherlock’s thighs using thin straps and heavy silver rings that could be used to secure Sherlock to different things. The leather was all black, revealing enticing spans of his marble body, hinting at everything but showing little. There was nothing in the leggings that covered Sherlock’s groin except that he was wearing a fabric lined codpiece that wrapped under his cock and balls to keep him safely hidden away but also easily accessible if John so wished. The white of Sherlock’s flesh could be seen flashing provocatively from between the leather panels but no one got more than a suggestion of what lay beneath. 

John and Sherlock had matching heavy leather boots on. Silver buckles started near the toes and worked their way up to mid-calf, black and shining, the soles heavy and the treads deep. John’s outfit looked like a normal leather pair of pants and shirt except that they clearly laced onto his body leaving wide strips of bared flesh showing on the sides of John’s arms, ribs and legs, broken with soft leather lashes that held it all into place. The leather was tight enough to show all the hard muscle beneath, thin and supple as well as highly polished so John had gave the impression of being mirrored. He received nearly as many appreciative looks as Sherlock did.

When John checked in their coats Sherlock made a display of kneeling in front of John, lowering his head to expose the back of his neck and the thick silver ring that waited. Here John clipped his tether on and attached the other end to the wide belt he also wore. Sherlock stood with studied grace and waited for John to inspect him. When John raised his chin Sherlock bent down and pressed a tender kiss to the doctor’s mouth before allowing himself to be led away.

They were stopped immediately by a dark man who reached out to touch Sherlock’s back, his luminous skin clearly too much for the stranger to resist. John pushed the man’s arm away, “No!” The man shrugged and smiled, looked Sherlock over hotly and let them pass. John glared at him as they walked away. A man and a woman approached John and whispered a suggestion in his ear. John shook his head, “We don’t take people home with us.” They looked sulky but moved on as well. More and more people began to swirl and move around them, more than one reached out to touch Sherlock and John was getting angry. Sherlock was NOT for others! He was only for John. “Fuck off!” he snarled at a large woman with wandering hands and a whip. She gripped it threateningly but John just looked straight up at her with his sternest face. She flushed and smiled, encouraged. John rolled his eyes and took Sherlock away with him.

John almost shouted at the man who tapped on his shoulder but it was one of the club workers. Kirk had them ushered right to the fourth room, he was excited to see them again, “OH! You CAME! I’m so LUCKY! You both are just beautiful, oh my GOD John! Just look at you! I can practically taste the dominance. Sherlock, you lucky little thing, I bet he’s tough with you, he is, isn’t he.” Kirk winked playfully at Sherlock while John looked around.

There was the stage. It caught John’s eye right away. It was set in the middle of the room so viewers could walk all around it to watch whoever was being disciplined. Displayed on it was a huge wooden X, what looked like a pommel horse and a contraption that looked like a massive hamster wheel except that it was fixed to the floor with heavy bolts and unable to turn. There was a small crowd around it, clearly discussing the set-up while various people, obviously subs, either knelt or stood behind their Doms. There was NO way in hell John was going to allow Sherlock to be put up there! John would kick the ass of everyone in here if they even tried!

There were several groups and couples milling about. Kirk led the pair to a set of low couches he had placed around the room. John sat on one but Sherlock neatly folded himself onto his knees in front of John, easily assuming a very submissive pose. Kirk was very impressed. “He’s SO well trained!”

“He’s a natural. Made for it.” said John. He was kicking himself, they hadn’t thought of learning anything about how to behave but Sherlock’s eyes were darting around and John knew Sherlock was learning the same way he’d learned how to dance, by watching. John almost groaned again, “I don’t like to follow other people’s rules. We have our own way and that’s what I prefer. I’m never sharing Sherlock with anyone anyway so it doesn’t matter to me if he’s trained to standard. I know what I want.”

“Oh Sherlock aren’t you lucky! Your Dom is SO commanding. You must keep him very happy.” Sherlock said nothing and kept his eyes down. That made John happy; he didn’t trust Kirk and didn’t want Sherlock to talk to him or anyone really. Sherlock was beginning to gather a crowd again.

A female Dom looked directly at John and pulled her submissive to the stage. She let him choose which form to be bound to and he chose the pommel horse. The nearly nude man was bent over it and his arms shackled to his legs with long chains and cuffs. The woman spoke to him softly and John saw the man nod. The Dom looked at John again and began whipping her sub slowly, deliberately. Kirk whispered loudly, “Ooh, I think she’s flirting John.”

Sherlock’s knuckles went white but he didn’t look up at all. John stopped watching the stage immediately and bent low to whisper in Sherlock’s ear, “Never anyone but you, beautiful.” Sherlock’s hands relaxed and John smiled, kissed Sherlock’s cheek and sat back to look at Kirk. “I’m not here to meet anyone else. We just wanted to check the scene out. I’m not really loving it.” John hated it. The clothes were admittedly interesting but John wasn’t enjoying seeing people eye-fuck his boyfriend.

“Oh John you just got here. Okay yes Katia is coming on a bit strong but there are all kinds of people here. I’m sure you’ll meet another couple you’d be interested in! Have you even tried Sherlock on anyone else?” Kirk sounded like he was trying to be helpful but John had to close his eyes and count to control his temper.

“Kirk, no offense but if someone tried to touch Sherlock I would have to hurt them. If they kept touching him I would have to break them.” John stopped there but Kirk was entirely intrigued now.

“You’ve NEVER shared him? How puritanical John. I may have to take Sherlock from you and put him through his paces. Subs need to be shared around or they get lazy.” John stood right up and took Sherlock’s tether firmly in hand. He gave Kirk an angry look and was clearly going to leave, “Oh John! I’m TEASING. You are so funny! All you Dom’s are the same; it’s always mine mine mine don’t touch! Where’s the fun in that? When I was a sub I had to ASK my Dom to loan me out to all of his friends. I learned so much and now I’m a Dom myself. Everyone has their own little ways.”

Dom Katia was still working her sub over. The man was moaning and writhing, apparently with both pain and pleasure but it did nothing to stir John. Sherlock kept silent. They had to get active somehow, manufacture some way of getting into the office. John looked around to try and see if there was anyone apart from Kirk that seemed approachable. Kirk noticed of course and began pointing out different pairings. 

Finally Kirk just called over another D/s couple, introducing them as Vladimir and Carl. Vladimir looked exactly like his name suggested, big, brutish and bulging with muscles. He was tall too, at least 190 cm and he was wearing long leather trousers that had spiked suspenders running over his broad shoulders. His sub, Carl, was a small man, thin like Sherlock and short like John. Carl’s head was entirely covered in a soft fabric hood and he wore something like a very fancy loincloth that matched the heavy collar around his neck. There were long spikes on it that curved upward, forcing the man to keep his chin raised at all times. As soon as Carl was knelt next to Sherlock Vladimir sat down and Kirk disappeared. “You have questions?” the big man’s voice was harsh and rumbling.

“I suppose. We’ve only been to this club once before so I’m not exactly sure about tonight.” John couldn’t help the distaste that flickered across his face but Vladimir nodded in understanding.

“Everyone’s tastes are different. That’s why Kirk is so popular. He caters to all. Carl doesn’t like pain but he does enjoy slow flogging, not to hurt, just to sensitize. Some are harsh with their submissive but I don’t want to permanently mark my pretty little man.” Carl flushed when Vladimir complimented him. If he was handsome John couldn’t tell but the blush ran down his chest clearly and since he was as pale as Sherlock it showed immediately. Vladimir chuckled fondly, “He’s shy too. He won’t go anywhere without the hood, one day, maybe.”

“What about the collar?” It looked pretty dangerous in John’s opinion. Vladimir’s brow furrowed and Carl’s shoulders sank a bit as if he were ashamed of something.

“Punishments are meted out when needed. You must decide for yourself how to discipline your sub. You know him best. What works for one will not always work for another. Carl doesn’t like pain and he’s shy so I make him wear this when he is disobedient. It hurts if he is not careful and everyone can see that he is being punished. For him it is very effective. This collar he will wear until I’ve decided he’s done.”

John wondered what the little man could have done to deserve a punishment like that. It would never work for Sherlock. He’d love to have a spiked collar like that and would be wearing it around, probably at the Yard, specifically BECAUSE it was dangerous. No, if John ever needed to punish Sherlock he’d need to think carefully about how to do so that was effective but didn’t damage the delicate genius. Sherlock was a carefully managed storm disguised as a man, you had to keep him in balance or he would rage. “I’ll think of something.” he finally said.

“Pain is not always suitable nor is humiliation. It depends on the needs of your sub. I find myself most satisfied when Carl is happy, we both enjoy the punishments to a degree but for both of us it is about satisfying our mutual needs. For us it is about control. For you perhaps it is something else, you must speak and decide. There is much trust in this, you must trust your sub to be honest with you and your sub must trust that you are doing what is best. Trust.” With those words Vladimir got up and made Carl stand. The huge man looked down at Sherlock and as he walked away he said, “He’s pretty. Not as pretty as Carl but pretty.”

John’s head was full of ideas now. He hadn’t actually been expecting to learn anything here. His goal had been to get Sherlock into the office somehow and get him the opportunity he needed to get the rest of the information they required. In a regular club Sherlock could have slipped away and gotten in somehow but here everyone was being watched because everyone was basically on display, even if they weren’t the one’s being whipped on the stage. Shit!

Kirk fluttered his way back. “Well? Interesting? Yes? No?” John looked down at Sherlock and thought quickly about everything he’d just learned from Vladimir. He and Sherlock would certainly need to discuss their mutual needs. John cared deeply for his friend and wanted Sherlock to be as happy as John could make him, that’s all John had ever wanted. Sherlock was the most important person in John’s life and had been since they’d met.

“It was interesting. Thanks Kirk.” John smiled politely over to the big man who continued to gush about people he’d just spoken to. Kirk fell oddly silent for a moment but then his bright smile bloomed and he jumped off the couch. “Oh I have the PERFECT gift for you both. Come here come here!”

He danced away in front of them and led them right to his office, exactly where they wanted to be except without Kirk. John got up and Sherlock smoothly rose to his feet and followed silently. John could practically feel Sherlock’s eyes darting around as he took in everyone mixing around in the large room. Soon enough Kirk was closing his door and locking it. 

When he turned to John the playful minx attitude disappeared and he spoke to John is a surprising normal voice, “Doctor Watson, Mr. Holmes. I’ve been trying to get a private meeting with you for ages now. Listen, I’m being watched right now so please just take whatever I’m going to give you but listen too. This is my club; I’ve worked for years to develop my clientele. Some utter fuck-wad is using me to front a lot of shady deals. I’ve been in up to my fucking ass for an age now, I don’t know how I’ll ever get out but I have to try. Listen, this shit’s name is Christopher Bell. Girly right? He fucking hates it, he’s got a complex. Want to watch him blow up, call him Cristobel. Boom! He’s tapped into my business which I started so I could help people with their alternative lifestyles. This fuck is turning it into mass blackmail. He’s got one person after another under his fucking thumb, squeezing their businesses for a little bit extra and he uses what he learns here against them! We’re all fucking stuck. We need you to get him off of us! I can’t go to the police! Most of these people live respectable lives and have serious jobs, these kinks are private! This stuff takes the pressure off and having Bell jerk them around for money is sickening! Can you help me?”

The entire time Kirk had been speaking he had been rummaging through a series of boxes until he pulled out a dark fabric bag of something. He pressed the bag into John’s hands and pushed him toward the door. John realized they had no more time, “We need to copy your hard drive and then we can see about helping.”

“I’ll fucking ship the damn thing to you if you want. I’ll messenger a copy of the drive tomorrow. Go out NOW. Smile big, we’re on.” Kirk pranced out in front of them effortlessly shifting into his work persona. “He’ll LOVE it. You’ll love it John, trust me!” They’d only been in the room for a couple of minutes.

With the bag in hand Kirk cooed and chatted them all the way back to the exit where they claimed their coats. As they passed, John nodded farewell to Vladimir and Carl who were in the second room. John hadn’t really met anyone else so after they collected their coats Kirk fluttered away to speak to other people. John and Sherlock were silent on the way home, ignoring the rather odd looks they were getting from the cabbie. Though John was decently covered up Sherlock was wearing his deep hood all the way up and John realized that must look a bit weird.

When they got home Sherlock undid his cloak slowly. He was lost in thought. “There were six different people tracking Kirk’s movements, four women and two men. He is most certainly being watched. Of the participants present there were seven different pairs that seemed uncomfortable, as if they had not wished to be present. Most likely some of the people he is blackmailing. We don’t have a description of Mr. Bell yet, Kirk didn’t really have time. I hope he mends that somehow.”

John wondered if they’d already seen Christopher and hadn’t realized it. Maybe not Carl or Vladimir but there were plenty of people at the club, anyone could have been Bell. There wasn’t anything they could do until they got the rest of the information either. John looked down at himself. “We need to change.”

“I don’t know John; you look rather remarkable in your outfit.” Sherlock was grinning at John. John had to admit he didn’t exactly hate Sherlock’s outfit either but the last minute talk with Kirk had kicked John right out of that headspace. Sherlock sighed when he looked at John’s face but just shrugged and turned so John could unlock his outfit. The doctor fitted the key in and when it clicked John caressed Sherlock’s behind appreciatively. “We’re going to have to figure out where to put these. We’re going to have a collection soon if we keep meeting with Kirk at his club.”

John didn’t exactly hate that idea either but he said nothing. Sherlock was enjoying peeling himself out of his outfit, making a show of it again. He was being dramatic and making John laugh until he was cheered up again and Sherlock was wholly naked. Together they unlaced John from his clothes. Sherlock put their club outfits and Kirk's bag away and got their robes while John risked putting on the new kettle while nude.

After their robes were on and their tea enjoyed Sherlock put on some soft music and the two of them danced around the living room, just laughing at one another as John tried to show Sherlock how to do some of the more complicated steps. Now that they weren’t fighting with each other it went a lot smoother and Sherlock learned a fair amount. When the music slowed down they began to speak about Vladimir and Carl, “He mentioned trust John, that’s a very big thing with you. I’ve damaged your trust many times.”

Sherlock was speaking plainly for once and John appreciated it, “Yes you have but you haven’t since you came back. I’m willing to start with a moderately clean slate.”

“Only moderately?” Sherlock sounded unhappy but John just poked him in the ribs.

“I still can’t trust you to not keep the human remains on the bottom part of the fridge so things don’t drip onto the food!” John smiled up at Sherlock who looked relieved and laughed a bit.

“I’ll promise you now. John, I promise to not put body parts or anything else leaky on the top part of the fridge.” Sherlock kissed John softly after he spoke.

“That’s a very nice promise Sherlock thank you. If you do that I promise not to lecture you about smoking PROVIDED you only smoke on the fire escape when we’re at home. It makes the flat reek.” Now John kissed Sherlock lightly.

“Agreed John, I’ll even cut down on smoking if your promise to cook two evening meals a week minimum. We’ve been eating out a lot lately and I rather enjoy your cooking.” Sherlock kissed John.

“I can do that but normally I don’t cook because I have to exorcise the Science Poltergeist from the kitchen first and if I’m tired I can’t be bothered. Still, I promise to make an effort at least twice a week.” Now John kissed Sherlock lightly and they smiled as they danced.

“I promise to keep at least the kitchen counter clear but I can’t vouch for the table.” kiss.

“Can’t we have someplace big enough to put our plates down? I’ll do that stir fry you like.” another kiss.

“The chicken one and one end of the table is yours but that means I get one corner of the counter back.” John got two kisses this time.

“You can do the shopping.” a longer kiss.

“I never do the shopping.” another long kiss.

“At least keep the milk full.” The kisses were getting deeper and longer than ever.

“I refuse to be responsible for the milk. You’ve seen how that works out.” John noticed Sherlock was dancing him away from the living room now. “I’ll sweep the flat for bugs. I’ll make sure our phones are charged and that you always know where I’m going. I promise to never lie to you and to try and not hide things from you. I promise to try as hard as I can John, for you.”

John felt his heart begin to beat harder as their playful kisses became achingly sweet and tender. John could feel all those little ragged parts of himself wrap around Sherlock’s words. “Just be yourself Sherlock, it’s already just what I like.”

“I want to be better. I want to deserve you.” John felt Sherlock’s arms wrap tight around him and Sherlock buried his face in John’s neck, breathing slowly and deeply. Sherlock stood up again and looked down at John with a soft smile, “You’re a good man John Watson, the very best sort of man. I don’t know how I managed to find you but I plan on keeping you for as long as I can.”

John liked that idea a great deal. They laughed their way through their bedtime rituals and argued over pajamas before just deciding to sleep naked. Undressing led to more kissing and when Sherlock pointed out that they had a perfectly good bed right there and that the bottle of lube was still out John was more than happy to allow Sherlock to pin him down and cover him with hungry kisses. It was playful and easy as they rocked and sighed their way higher and higher, Sherlock kneeling over John once again, his long fingered hand wrapped around them both. John liked the way his name sounded when Sherlock sobbed it out, liked the way it felt to have Sherlock’s come streak onto his belly and chest. He very much liked the look in Sherlock’s eyes, that burning happiness that made him seem to glow.

Once they’d cleaned up John cuddled Sherlock tight to him, exhausted and content. He dozed for a long time, unable to fall asleep fully and was almost startled into full consciousness when Sherlock began to whisper softly, “I want to be better for you John, so I can be good enough. I want to be good enough for you John Watson because you deserve only the very best and I am not the best. If I try very, very hard, maybe I’ll manage to be good enough to earn the right to be with someone as good as you, maybe one day and on that day maybe you won’t mind so much when I tell you how much I love you. You’ll be awake when I say it and not asleep like all the other times. I love you John Watson and I want to be better.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The 'L' word!


	10. Give and Take

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So Sherlock said something while he thought John was asleep! How will John decide to handle this bit of information?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel obligated to warn you that some naughtiness is going to happen.

John had not wanted to fall asleep after overhearing Sherlock but he did. When he woke up he was alone in bed but there was a note on the bedside in Sherlock’s spidery hand, “Molly called, be back in two hours. SH x” Okay. John’s head thumped back onto his pillow and he lay there for a minute. Making his mind up John got out of bed and marched himself to the bathroom which was still steamy from Sherlock.

John washed up thoroughly and shaved carefully. When he went up to his room he found clothes set out for him including a pair of pants with bumblebees all over it. Sherlock had obviously branched out from socks to matched sets. John had to laugh when he thought of what people must think of Sherlock striding through London in bumblebee socks. He put his bee pants on and dressed. John stopped long enough for tea and sent Sherlock a text, “Stepping out for errands. Be back for lunch.”

Instantly a text came up, “New delivery. Dinner?” Okay if there were new bodies at the morgue you’d need a winch to get Sherlock out of there, which meant Sherlock was going to be gone all day. Well John had a lot to do now so he went down to see Mrs. Hudson and asked her to wait for Kirk’s delivery should it arrive while he was out. She gave him a squeeze and made him take a piece of toast to eat on his way. He texted Sherlock back and they planned to meet at the flat at six that evening.

John shopped for groceries. They’d left it so long there was practically nothing left to eat except the stale ends of packets of things they didn’t really like but never threw away. John made a note to himself to clear out the cupboards, knowing his note would be likely be disregarded like it always was and the mystery packets would continue to clutter their cupboards and taunt them with the idea there was something good to eat hidden among them.

John couldn’t stop thinking about what Sherlock had said. When he had woken up John was right back in the moment. Sherlock loved him! Sherlock Holmes loved plain old boring John Watson and for some unexplainable reason had convinced himself he wasn’t up to par. John was astounded. If anything it was the other way around. Sherlock was incredible! He was amazing! He was marvelous because he performed miracles. John struggled to understand how Sherlock could ever think so little of himself when he was so brilliantly talented.

John took care of the chores when he got home, just working on autopilot as his brain worked over the situation. The drive copy had been delivered so John left it on the mantle with the skull. Once John had adjusted to the idea that Sherlock had kept his feelings from him John was kicking himself for missing all the blatant clues that had been laid out right in front of him this entire time! Sherlock was right. John saw but he did not observe. 

The first night at the club Sherlock’s outfit was crossed over his heart and he had given the key to John. It clipped onto John’s outfit right over his own heart. Sherlock had literally given John the key to his heart in front of everyone! How did John miss that? John began going over all the little things they said to one another, all the ways they behaved with one another and began to wonder if he didn’t need some sort of minder to get him safely through the day because it was clear John Watson was an idiot!

Sherlock loved John and John loved Sherlock. It was blindingly obvious that John had loved Sherlock for so long now it was part of who he was, inseparable from everything else that identified John as himself. He wasn’t feeling a new upsurge of love with Sherlock because they’d begun having sex simply because it was already there, huge and glowing. Sherlock was the single most important person in John’s world, the person he put in front of absolutely everyone else without hesitation, the person John would die for, who he would kill for, who he would do absolutely anything for including going to fetish clubs dressed in skin tight leather. How had he missed that?

Once John had spent an appropriate amount of time berating himself he set to work on the other part of the situation, how Sherlock felt about himself. That was wrong, entirely wrong and it was up to John to correct that. John squared his shoulders and began to think about how he could sort out this issue. When the solution came to mind John stood straight up, his mouth hanging open. Simple, elegant and completely what John was willing to do. Mind made up again John put his cleaning things away and left the flat once more.

It took the rest of the afternoon before John was back at 221 B. He set to work as soon as he got home, going to the kitchen and carefully cleaning off the kitchen table. He temporarily relocated Sherlock’s experiments to the freshly emptied cupboards and began to cook. Once dinner was in the oven John finished cleaning the table off and set it, using their least chipped plates and favorite cups. After that John remade Sherlock’s bed and set up everything the way he wanted. John finished by going up to his room and changing, keeping his bumblebee pants on but putting on his old jeans and his scratchy oatmeal jumper.

John was just making tea when he heard Sherlock running up the stairs. Sherlock reeked but he still carefully stretched his neck out so he could kiss John hello without touching him. John laughed and told his lover he had time for a shower before dinner was ready so Sherlock raced away to clean up. When Sherlock came back, hair still damp but wearing a clean suit he was barefoot. “My socks need washing.” John just laughed again and served up dinner.

It was fun. Sherlock was in a good mood because two of the bodies were particularly interesting, one with an unusual deformity of the hand which Sherlock was currently studying and the other perfectly healthy seeming and mysteriously dead, therefore equally fascinating. John realized he didn’t mind such morbid talk during their meal because it was part of who Sherlock was; Sherlock was interested in everything and had no social boundaries when it came to discussing things.

John waited until Sherlock had finished his meal before he told him about the drive being delivered. As anticipated Sherlock abandoned the kitchen table instantly and was soon using John’s laptop again to extract the information and begin working. John just gave Sherlock a fresh cup of tea and cleaned up. After letting the detective go through everything for a couple of hours John set out a plate of biscuits and fresh tea so Sherlock joined him for a short break.

Sherlock went over his discoveries and showed John the file filled with different pictures of the man known as Christopher Bell. He was plain, thin but not fit and John thought he looked angry. All of his outfits were excessively masculine and screamed out the man’s insecurity to anyone who knew how to look. For John and Sherlock it was as plain as day, “It’s just normal old blackmail but on a rather large scale. From the records I can see a large percentage of their clients have ‘contract’s with the club, payments made but no real explanation for the services provided. Those are the payouts. Mr. Bell is using Kirk’s club as a way to launder the money he has been extorting from these people. If Kirk reveals him he reveals the clients and he’s trying to protect them. We need to obtain Christopher’s collection of blackmail material. Once we have that he goes back to being powerless.”

Great, John firmly set aside the objections he usually had because Sherlock meant to steal away these secrets and expected John to help him do so. John would. John always did so with resignation he just asked, “When?”

“Tonight? We have his address. I’ve texted Kirk and asked him to keep Christopher at the club or at least text us back if he leaves. He must keep everything at his flat. We just need to go look.” Well John could see a dozen ways this could go wrong but he got his handgun and spare clip before getting into his coat and following Sherlock out into the night.

They took the most circuitous way possible once they got close. Getting into the flat was ridiculously easy for Sherlock but once they were in there the both stopped cold. The place was PACKED with things. Christopher was a hoarder and the whole place was stuffed to the ceiling with newspapers and boxes. John groaned but Sherlock just looked intrigued. “Everything would be together. Let’s see what we can find.”

Carefully they picked their way through the narrow aisles between things. There didn’t seem to be rhyme or reason to the placement of items, there was just a lot of everything. One room in the whole place was almost Spartan and that was Christopher’s bedroom. Painted white it gleamed with almost surgical cleanliness. There was a wardrobe on one wall and there they found his fetish collection, all his leather clothes and the toys he liked. Apart from that there was nothing. Closing the door they looked around carefully but apart from some very normal clothes in a dresser Christopher kept nothing else in his bedroom.

They picked their way through the rest of the flat and then Sherlock closed his eyes. John smiled as he realized Sherlock was putting it all together, eliminating one factor after another until he had figured it out. As John watched Sherlock’s eyes snapped open and he made his way unerringly through the chaos to a small stark white shoe box wedged at the end of a narrow path. Inside were photographs, flash-drives and all sorts of small items. Sherlock looked around, plucked a shopping bag out of the debris and emptied the shoebox into it and set the container back where he’d found it. “Let’s go John.”

They stole their way out of the building and made their way home again. Sherlock sorted through the bag of treasure, looking at a couple of flash drives briefly to make sure they actually contained information and then bagged them all up to give back to Kirk. “He’ll give everything back to whoever needs to have it. He’ll be able to get rid of Christopher on his own now that everyone is out of danger. Even the people who were watching Kirk for Christopher were being blackmailed. They’ll stop now that they’re no longer being compelled.” John was very impressed all over again. 

“You really are incredible Sherlock. It would have taken anyone else weeks to go through that mess to find anything and you practically walked right up to it. You’re brilliant!” Sherlock smiled as John heaped compliments onto him. John liked the look on Sherlock’s face and made another decision.

John led Sherlock back to the bedroom. They stripped each other quickly and stood there, bodies pressed together as they continued to kiss. John looked up at Sherlock, the man he trusted most in the whole world, “I want you to take me Sherlock, I want to make love to you and want you to have me.”

Sherlock’s face grew tender and gentle. He was biting his lower lip and his eyes grew large and soft. His voice was a soft whisper, “Are you sure John?” John nodded and smiled up his lover. John had never been more certain of anything in his life. He’d give Sherlock what he would never give anyone.

Sherlock was slow and reverent. He kissed John all over, tasting his skin and telling John what he loved about each different scar he encountered, deducing their origin if he didn’t already know. Sherlock’s resolve was sorely tested when he got to John’s cock, both men lost in the pleasure of the act that almost went too far. Reluctantly Sherlock stopped but grinned wickedly at John as he began to prepare him. Now Sherlock’s kisses were hot and eager, his fingers trembling with repressed desire, he lost all the upper school education he had and got rude, “You have no idea how badly I want this John, how I want you. Fuck. I can’t wait. I can’t. I’ve wanted to fuck you for years. You’re so beautiful John, so fucking beautiful.”

That first swirl of Sherlock’s fingers made John gasp with surprise. Sherlock just kissed his way back down John’s body, pushing his legs up and open and stuffing a pillow under his hips. Just as John had done with him Sherlock licked and teased, tasted and tongued John until the smaller man was gasping and rutting his hips upward. When Sherlock began to push his long fingers inside John had to close his eyes and concentrate on breathing, he’d never felt anything as intimate as this.

John was moaning loudly now, he couldn’t help it. Sherlock was devious and clever, he stroked John’s prostate irregularly so John never expected it. By the time John was ready he was a mess, panting and groaning loudly. “My perfect John, oh my fucking god are you sexy.” Sherlock sounded amazed and so aroused that his voice was harsh and thick. “Just look at you so delicious and open.” Sherlock slicked himself heavily and spent a bit of time just rubbing the head of his cock over John’s entrance. He stroked himself slowly for a moment and then finally began to push inside.

John was absolutely dying. He had been expecting it to hurt and instead he was struggling not to come on the instant. He had no way of preparing for the sensation he was feeling, that slight burn as Sherlock fit himself inside John’s body, the way he was being pushed open deeper than Sherlock’s fingers could go and how much John absolutely loved it. By the time Sherlock was fully seated John was rutting mindlessly against him, “Please.” was all he needed to say.

“Oh yes John!” Sherlock began to fuck him. He seemed to be enjoying the sight of himself as he disappeared over and over again into John, groaning each time he nearly withdrew completely. “It’s incredible, so incredible. John. Your ass really is the most amazing ass on the planet. It deserves awards. Oh fuck! Look at you take me, Christ John!”

Sherlock was an animal. He growled deep in his throat, his rumbles of appreciation loud and crude. He was in no hurry, Sherlock fucked John slowly, enjoying each thrust thoroughly, twisting and plunging in such a way that John was kept on the knife-edge of pleasure for an eternity. Sherlock’s hands were everywhere; he caressed John’s body like he couldn’t believe it was available for him to touch. His clever fingers toyed with John, touching him in all the right places at all the right times until John was completely awash with pleasure.

Finally Sherlock hooked one of John’s legs over his shoulder and pushed the other one as far wide as possible, his body undulating as he drove John wild. “So strong. So perfect. So gorgeously scarred. Everything about you is incredible John. Your hands, your mouth, your everything. God John. John. Oh…oh fuck….Jawn.” Suddenly Sherlock looked panicked and then his head fell back as the loudest moan yet echoed through the room. John was panting, anxious to come and when he felt Sherlock pulse deep inside him and felt that warm damp push of come far within his body John could not hold back. 

Orgasm had never been like this. Pleasure had coiled up low in John’s belly, tightening his body until he cracked open and exploded. Sherlock’s hand pulled at him and John could dimly hear himself calling out Sherlock’s name but he couldn’t control his mouth or anything else about himself because the pleasure was just too intense. The rapid thrust of Sherlock’s still moving cock dragged across John’s prostate and he saw stars. When John peaked the intensity wiped out everything in his brain until all he heard was the word, “Yes” being shouted triumphantly.

When John’s brain finally restarted a while later he realized he was being crushed to death by a nearly unconscious Sherlock who was once more splayed out over John like a huge starfish. This time at least he was face down and very happy. “I can’t move John.” John started to giggle and Sherlock did too, both of them with limp noodle arms struggling to shift Sherlock to the side. It took a bit of effort but all the sweat helped make him slide easier and eventually they were side by side, Sherlock still face down. He was smiling almost shyly from the pillow where his face was half hidden.

John managed to roll to his side and returned the near-bashful smile. John felt so alive right then, so wonderful. He nudged himself closer until Sherlock was able to flop his arm over John’s waist and then John was totally happy. Another decision was made and while Sherlock’s legs were out of service John turned his face up so he could look Sherlock in the eye, his smile firmly in place. “I heard you last night.”

Sherlock stilled and his smile vanished. He looked sick now and tried to pull away, his face going from happily flushed to ashen gray. John’s brows knitted in concern, “Shh. Don’t be scared Sherlock. I’m glad I did. Today has been one of the best days I’ve ever had because I knew. I wanted to give you one beautiful day where everything went just like it always does even though I knew how you felt. You see Sherlock, it changes nothing and you know why? It’s because I love you too, I have forever. I’m the happiest man in the world today because I found out the most incredible, amazing, wonderful, talented, brilliant man on the earth loves me. ME! I don’t deserve you Sherlock. You’re too good for someone like me but I’m happy it’s me you picked.”

“You knew all day.” Sherlock’s voice was almost timid now but John nodded. “Nothing was different. You didn’t act any different.”

“Why should I act differently? I love you just as you are and I sure hope you love me just the way I am. We’ve always been together Sherlock, it’s always going to be you and me so don’t I deserve the right to tell you I love you if I do because I do. I love you.” John was smiling harder than ever because Sherlock was falling to pieces and trying very hard not to. His eyes welled up and he tried to stop it. His breath stuttered and he tried to breathe normally. Sherlock tried not to do all the things his body wanted to do to exult in the revelation but Sherlock was Sherlock and nothing was ever straightforward. “I think the only real difference now Sherlock, because I know and you can’t tell me I don’t, is that now I’m going to kiss you whenever I feel like it, cuddle you all the time even if you try to complain, and the next time Donovan cracks a joke at your expense I’m going to use the skills I learned from you and out her most embarrassing secret in front of everyone, that’s a promise.”

“Oh John!” Sherlock buried his face in John’s neck and John pretended he didn’t know Sherlock was silently crying with happiness because it would embarrass the man too much and John couldn’t do that to Sherlock. Instead John just kept talking about inane things to give Sherlock the time to collect himself. When the happy tears ended Sherlock surreptitiously sniffled his nose and John ignored it when he got up to eventually just blow it before crawling back into bed. Sherlock’s nose was as red as his eyes and John tactfully didn’t mention anything because again it would embarrass Sherlock to see actual evidence of emotions on his face and John thought a teary Sherlock was one of the sweetest sights he’d ever witnessed. His eyes were still pink around the edges when Sherlock finally gathered himself together and looked at John who was waiting patiently. He was clearly nervous and timid but John just smiled warmly at him and winked. Sherlock laughed then and with a blush and a smile he looked John directly in the eyes and said, “I love you John.”

There was no way Sherlock could misinterpret the reaction on John’s face. It was one thing to have overheard the declaration and to know it was true and another thing entirely to see Sherlock say it to him. John was nearly as overwhelmed as Sherlock was and hugged his lover tight, the grin on his face huge and sincere. “I love you so much Sherlock. I want you to tell me all the time, every day.”

Sherlock’s grin was goofy and toothy now, the crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes deep and his cheeks folding into a mass of wrinkles as he laughed with delight and promised that he would. John couldn’t resist and pinned the man down to kiss the wrinkle between his eyes and the broad smile on his lips. Soon they were playfully rolling around the bed, gently nipping at one another but John was too sore to do very much so after a bit they just cuddled together, Sherlock with his head on John’s chest. “Is it strange that you make me feel safe even though you’re a smaller man?”

“No because I do keep you safe because even though you’re insane I’m actually the more dangerous man.” Sherlock chuckled with John.

“True enough, I won’t even argue the insanity part.” John didn’t see how he could. Nearly everything the detective did was insane. John loved that. They looked at the clock and laughed. It was still early in the evening, “Let’s drop that stuff off with Kirk and close the books on this okay?” Sherlock nodded and helped John out of bed. Now that he was up John wasn’t too sure about going out and about. Sherlock offered to go on his own. “No fucking way! Every time we try something like that one of us gets kidnapped or stabbed or, well you were there you know what kinds of things happen. No, we go together. I’ll take a couple of paracetamols and I’ll be fine.”

“My brave John, always the soldier. This would be a good time to tell you that I love you because when you’re like this I find you irresistible.” Sherlock had to kiss John’s grin because he couldn’t stop smiling. They redressed, Sherlock helpfully going upstairs to fetch clean pants and clothes for John. “You know it would be easier if you just moved in with me.”

“I already live with you. It would be hard to live with you more.” teased John who knew perfectly well what Sherlock was hinting at.

“John! Since we do love one another and we are dating and we also share a home would you be interested in keeping your clothes next to mine and sharing my bed full time?” John pretended to mull this over while Sherlock prodded him with a long bony finger. “John Watson!”

“Yes. Of course yes. I want to share your room you big bone-rack! Now help me get dressed because I think my arse is going to fall off and I want to get this case out of the way so we can concentrate on important things like fucking one another until we BOTH can’t walk.” Sherlock was entirely behind this idea and helped John get his pants and trousers on, slipped on his socks and even tied his shoes. By then the pain tablets had kicked in so the taxi ride to Kirk’s club wasn’t too uncomfortable. They realized when they got there that they weren’t in costume. They had to ask the bouncer to send for Kirk and then they were brought in by another club-worker.

Kirk was in his office and he looked surprised. “You’re back already? Really? Oh MY GOD! You DID IT!” Kirk danced around as if he were in front of the entire club and then hugged Sherlock tight and kissing John on the cheek. Sherlock rubbed the kiss away instantly and re-kissed the violated area. Kirk was all for giving them gifts of sex-toys as a reward but after seeing the look on Sherlock’s face John declined. Sherlock almost blushed and said, “I’m sorry, I don’t think I’m actually interested in inanimate objects.” John was fine with that. Maybe in the future when Sherlock was more curious they could try some but right now John was satisfied with learning Sherlock without accessories. Kirk locked the evidence away in his new safe and tried to hug Sherlock again but the tall man slid away deftly and stood behind John who suffered more kisses on the cheek, first by Kirk and then after the proper cleaning, Sherlock.

It was the end of the night and the club was nearly closed by the time they left Kirk’s office. Kirk was talking to Sherlock about clothes, the one area Sherlock actually seemed to be interested in getting opinions. John kissed his lover and went out to the street to flag a cab, laughing at the expressions he could see on Sherlock’s face and wondered what Kirk was talking about because the man’s hands were nearly as expressive as his face.

John wasn’t expecting to be kidnapped right out in the open but that’s what happened. While Sherlock and Kirk spoke to each other not fifteen feet away a voice in John’s ear and a cold barrel on his neck made John freeze, “So Kirk did hire the most famous detective in town. You’re his little friend, aren’t you. Careful steps backwards Doctor Watson, we’re nearly in the alley." John kept hoping that either Sherlock or Kirk would simply turn their heads and see that John was being walked away with a gun pointed at his head but Kirk had made Sherlock laugh about something. John clung to that image, a happy Sherlock. John didn’t think this walk was going to end well. He could guess who was holding the gun and indeed as soon as they were out of sight the man leaned closer and said, “Christopher Bell, call me Chris.” A sharp pain on the back of John’s head made the world go black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Christopher - you have no idea what you've gotten yourself into!


	11. Ass Kickery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christopher thinks he's a badass and he's taken John. Oh dear...

John woke up with an aching head. He was lying on a small hard mattress on a cement floor and his hands were cuffed behind his back. John’s ass and his lower back hurt and judging by how stiff he was John figured he’d been out for at least an hour. He also realized he had been stripped of everything but the novelty pants with otters on them that John had changed into before going to Kirk’s and he was cold. Sherlock’s socks had made John laugh so much. It looked like two otters were wearing Sherlock’s shoes. John wondered if he’d ever see the next pair of amusing socks Sherlock had, “They’re looking for you but they’ll never find you.”

Christopher. He was sitting at a small desk and he was looking at a laptop. John got his first good look at his kidnapper. He was a little altered from the pictures John had seen. His hair was styled a bit and dyed sandy blond. He was wearing jeans and heavy boots, and he seemed to be lost inside a fluffy jumper. John realized Christopher looked like John now. “Sherlock is very beautiful. Lovely. I’ll enjoy breaking him. Like my getup? It will make things seem that much more interesting. Costumes are very important.”

John’s rage was instant but he swallowed it back and began assessing his situation with care. Christopher wasn’t really watching him. John tested the cuffs, they were the basic metal model and they had cut into John’s wrists while he slept. His bad shoulder was screaming with pain from being twisted back for so long. “I doubt that even a strong man like you can break out of metal cuffs Doctor Watson.”

John had to admit that was true but he said nothing again. He couldn’t break the cuffs and he made a mental note to kiss Sherlock hard if he ever saw him again because John could pick his way out of these cuffs easily. Sherlock had trained him how the very first year they lived together. Still saying nothing John set to work. 

The mattress was old-fashioned, pin-striped with big wide buttons holding the batting in place. John took hold of the button beneath his hip and pulled slowly. As expected it was held into place with a v-pin which John twisted just right and began to use to pick his cuffs. It hurt like fucking hell because twisting your wrists like that wasn’t easy. John breathed steadily. When he felt the tumblers begin to give he spoke to cover the noise, “What are you going to do with me?” The cuff opened almost silently and John freed his hands.

“Well, first I’m going to use you as bait to get your pretty. Then I’m going to trap him, fuck him till he bleeds, keep him like a dog until he’s trained to do whatever I like and then I’m going to sell his pretty ass over and over again to the highest bidders. He lost my money and he’s going to earn it back. I’ve just finished designing the website right now; I’ll have bids coming in from all over the planet. I have special contacts all over the place. How many enemies does Sherlock Holmes have? How many would pay for the right to fuck him while he’s tied to the Wheel? I’m thinking, well, a lot really. He’s a real asshole.” Christopher looked almost bored as he clicked and worked away on his laptop. John had to breathe through his nose to keep calm. He had decisions to make, like which one of Christopher’s bones to break first.

“What about me?” John had to keep Christopher distracted until he’d worked the stiffness out of his shoulder and back. Once John moved he wouldn’t have time to stop for creaks and aches.

“Oh I’ll whore you out too, two holes are better than one. I can’t see getting very much out of you but every dollar counts. When I’m done here I’m coming over and seeing how tight you are, if you’re not too used your price will go up. I haven’t had a good fuck in days.” Jesus fucking Christ the man planned on raping John? He should have had his fun while John was out because it was too fucking late now. For someone into bondage he was shite at tying his prisoners too but John wasn’t complaining about Christopher’s oversight.

“How do you know they’re looking for me?” John surreptitiously rolled his shoulder to loosen it. He felt the blood rush through his liberated arm and it almost made him groan with relief. Christopher looked up and grinned.

“I tapped into the CCTV system. Not everyone can do that but I have some skills. I saw Sherlock running around with his stupid phone in his hand. He jumped into a cab and took off.” John controlled his expressions. If Christopher had done that then Mycroft would know exactly where John was. Sherlock obviously knew something and was on his way. John just needed to hold out till they got wherever they were. 

“Where am I?” This certainly wasn’t Christopher’s flat. It was just a room with a table and a mattress. John didn’t really care if Christopher answered, he was just filling time.

“Does it matter? No one knows about this place. No one will ever look for you here.” Christopher had no idea did he? Sherlock would tear London apart looking for John and force his brother to help. Mycroft would simply need to find the correct footage and track John to this location. “I wiped all the feed for two miles in all directions. No one is going to track you.”

John remained optimistic. His hand was free and Christopher was right in the corner. The odds were entirely in John’s favor. “Oh…we got a hit already! Well, isn’t this interesting. It’s not even for Sherlock. It’s for you! My, my, my. She’s bidding a lot too. She wants to buy you outright.” Some strange woman was buying John online? John stifled an inappropriate giggle when he wondered if he came with free shipping. “Tell me John, who is Mary M? She’s got a Do Not Touch request in place so if I sell you, I can’t fuck you. Now I’m torn, she’s offering a lot for an opening bid.”

John’s heart nearly stopped beating. It couldn’t be. She was gone. They had told John she was gone. That wasn’t even her real name. It had to be a coincidence. How could Mary be free and bidding on John on the internet? John was tired of this shit already and really enjoyed the shocked gasp from Christopher as John got to his feet, his hands clearly by his sides. “How fast can you run Christobel?”

Not fast enough but he could shoot. His handgun was up and firing almost instantly, the panic on his face making Christopher look almost alien. He emptied his clip trying to shoot John but his aim was ruined by the fear in his arm and he missed nearly every single shot. One bullet scored the outside of John’s upper left arm but it didn’t slow the soldier one bit though John was nearly deafened by the sounds. Christopher threw the gun now and actually managed to hit John in the face, the sear of hot metal burning a line on John’s cheek.

Christopher darted to the door but John got there first and backhanded the man sharply. With a cry Christopher tried to twist away but John was furious and the room was very small. Christopher tried to kick John with his booted feet but John’s anger made him quick and he stepped out of the way at the last instant before slamming his fist into Christopher’s shoulder and heard a satisfying crunch. Christopher’s shoulder sagged, John had broken his collarbone. The man screamed and tried to get the door open. John yanked him away and slapped him hard two more times across the face, making him bleed before Christopher twisted out of John’s hands and managed to get the door open.

John ran after him, tackling him to the floor in the middle of a hallway. There was worn carpeting on the floor and a lift down the hall but no one else. The numbers were climbing up so the lift was in use. Shit. John couldn’t let his kidnapper get on it or he would disappear. Christopher was clawing at John’s face with his good arm; he raked four long lines down it and tried to get his hand around John’s throat. Now John was trying to get free so John punched Christopher in the stomach. The air whooshed out of the man and he staggered back against the wall. Christopher kicked at John again, trying to get John between the legs. John barely twisted in time so Christopher got John high in his leg instead. Fuck his boots hurt! John fell to his knees with a pained grunt and Christopher made a dash for the elevator.

John’s heart sank. The doors were opening and there was no way he was going to be able to run fast enough to catch Christopher before he got onto it. John tried to stand but his sore everything made him slow. John watched the lift doors part and an angel step out. Sherlock! Christopher ran right into him. Sherlock drew back his arm and John watched his kidnapper fall unconscious to the floor, Sherlock’s huge fist leaving a large bruise on his eye. “John!” cried the detective who dropped down the straddle the man on the floor.

John staggered over to Sherlock who was using a zip-tie to secure the unconscious Christopher. John reached Sherlock and found himself being squeezed in two. “John. God! JOHN, are you alright? We found your clothes in the alley, he’d cut them off!”

John remembered the promise he made to himself and kissed Sherlock as hard as he could; holding the long lean man tight and not letting go. “Thanks for teaching me how to break out of cuffs. You saved my life.” Sherlock was in a state of agitation and didn’t melt the way he normally did. He was patting John all over, checking him for serious damage.

Finally Sherlock was checking John’s face his own features an agony of worry as he looked at the wounds left behind by Christopher, “John.” he breathed and John could see Sherlock was frightened, relieved and shocked. “John. I thought….I didn’t. John.”

“How did you find me? Christopher said something about wiping all the CCTV feed for blocks!” Sherlock had to shake his head to focus on John’s question and only held John tighter.

“Your pants. He left your pants on. The micro-dots John. I tracked you by your pants.” Sherlock held up his phone and there was a map with a glowing dot flashing on it.

“I was saved by the seat of my pants.” said John dryly. Sherlock’s mouth fell open. He was still upset but John’s words made the corners of his mouth quirk up. John waited and then Sherlock laughed. John joined him. Inappropriate laughter was another great constant of their relationship. John hugged Sherlock again, “I love you Sherlock. Thanks for rescuing me.”

“It was my turn; you can do the rescuing next time.” Sherlock kissed John hard and then texted Lestrade with their location. His phone rang, “Mycroft. Yes. Call off your minions. I found him myself.” John immediately took the phone from Sherlock.

John snarled into the mobile, “Mycroft. He was going to pimp us out online. Someone has a bid in place for me already. Mary M. What can you tell me about that MYCROFT?” the line went dead. A now furious John handed it back to Sherlock who looked equally enraged.

“I thought she was gone John! What do you mean she’s bidding on you? John? Tell me everything, now!” Sherlock took off his Belstaff and wrapped it around John while they went back to the small room. John stood in the hallway to make sure Christopher didn’t wake up and crawl away while Sherlock retrieved the laptop. He stood beside John as they examined the site. There it was, the name flashing in huge letters, “Mary M”

Sherlock was gripping the laptop so tightly now his knuckles were cracking. John looked at Sherlock and saw the man battling a jealousy so intense John was left almost breathless. “Sherlock…”

“I need a minute John.” Sherlock closed his eyes and breathed deeply. When he opened them again he looked down hard at John. “When I came back to life I saw you with her and I wanted her to fucking die. I understood what it means now when people say jealousy eats at you because I was eaten. Every time I saw you with her it destroyed me a little more. I….John….she’s out there and you loved her once. You felt something for her, enough to want to marry her and you almost did. Everything….”

John didn’t want to hear it. He covered Sherlock’s mouth with his own, shutting off the words he couldn’t deal with. They kissed each other hungrily, joyfully reuniting once again. When John felt better he pulled back and looked meaningfully at his lover, “Mycroft owes us both a huge fucking explanation Sherlock. I need some fucking clothes, we need to figure out where this bitch is and we need to fucking END her! Sherlock, I’m sorry about Mary. She used me to get to you when I didn’t even know you were alive still. She used how I felt about you to get in with me and she was clever enough to succeed. I was in too deep, too conditioned by then to resist. You remember how she did it. I don’t want that to happen ever again! We’re doing this together Sherlock. You and I, always, alright?”

The look on Sherlock’s face made him seem so young. He was disbelieving of John’s attitude, surprised all over again with how devoted John was to him and him alone. John could see the jealousy ebb away and be replaced with love, “John, my wonderful, brave, magnificent soldier.”

“I’m yours Sherlock. No one from my past has a hold on me. Not one of them. I’m never going to leave you, I’ll never want anyone but you and the next time I’m kidnapped I’ll escape all over again and come back to you.” that kidnapping was such a normal part of their life now made both men laugh softly together.

“I’ll come looking, just like I always do.” yes, John could count on that. Sherlock would always come looking for John and no one could hide John well enough to keep Sherlock away. Christopher was a rank amateur and it had just been a matter of time. Sherlock smelled the air and touched John’s upper arm with extreme gentleness. “He SHOT at you!”

Sherlock was down the hallway and kicking Christopher hard in the side before John could pull him away, “He’s unconscious Sherlock. At least beat him when he’s awake or it’s just a waste.” that had both men laughing again. Once Lestrade arrived they’d never get another chance but John wasn’t going to let Sherlock lower himself to beat a man who couldn’t even fight back, no matter how he deserved it. They stood there beside Christopher, Sherlock holding John tight to him, checking the slow bleed on John’s arm and the marks on his face until they finally heard the lift engage. When the door opened Lestrade was there with a small team including Donovan.

“It’s always you two. Why is this man unconscious? Is he going to be pressing assault charges when he wakes up?” Donovan was always such a bitch. Her hatred of Sherlock had spilled over to include John. Lestrade stopped cold and stared at his colleague. John was standing right in front of them nearly naked and bloody yet she still made her accusations.

“No wonder Sherlock thinks all detectives are stupid. Donovan, this is the man that just kidnapped John! He’s the criminal. Not them. See there’s a big difference. If you can’t make the distinction after all your training might I suggest a career change?” John just glared at Donovan as Greg dressed her down. He had nothing against her personally but her constant insistence that Sherlock was somehow the villain irked him.

Sherlock flipped her off rather unprofessionally and turned to the DI, “Lestrade, do you suppose your band of incompetents can bring this man somewhere else, a cell perhaps? My brother will be in touch regarding his situation. Right now I need to get John home.” Lestrade nodded but Donovan griped.

“We need their statements before they can make up a story. You can’t let the sociopath and his enabler just walk out of here under suspicious circumstances!” John stared hard at her. Her fists were clenched and her eyes were tight. Her lips were pressed and she was very stiffly staring at them. John caught another officer glancing between her and Anderson and John laughed.

“You fucked someone else on the team and Anderson found out! Now he’s mad at you because you cheated but he’s a cheater too so where are you? Stuck in the middle with no one! Fuck off Sally. Keep your fucked up life to yourself and quit taking your frustrations out on us. I’ve been kidnapped, been in a fight, and need a fucking cup of tea and a cold compress. I’m standing here in my pants with no shoes and I’d like to get HOME. Why don’t you stand aside, you judgmental sow, and let me and my boyfriend LEAVE!”

John took Sherlock’s hand and pushed their way through the officers. No one objected as John stabbed the down button and left all of them with a stony glare. The doors were closing when he heard Donovan’s puzzled and horrified voice, “Boyfriend?”

The doors were shutting when John yelled, “Yes and we’re going home to fuck! SHUT UP!” he was livid. Tonight had been too much. John leaned against the lift wall and covered his eyes with his hands. He’d just told all the Yarders he was going home to have sex with Sherlock. Oh bloody hell!

Sherlock was pressed up against John now, pinning him to the lift wall. His voice was dark and growly, “John.” he rumbled. John looked up and Sherlock’s eyes were black with desire. “You incredible, fearsome, angry little man! John Watson, I fucking love you!” John found himself picked up and crushed to the wall as Sherlock devoured him with a kiss that did not end until the elevator opened. John was in a taxi a few minutes later and Sherlock held him tight the whole time.

When they got back to Baker Street Sherlock marched John right into the bathroom to shower off the blood and get bandaged up. There wasn’t much they could do for the scratches on his face but the flesh wound on John’s arm needed cleaning and a large bandage secured over it. Sherlock made him take two painkillers before forcing John into bed and then Sherlock could hold back no longer.

John found himself pressed back onto their pillows while Sherlock worshiped him from head to toe, telling John how much he loved him, how worried he had been and how brave and magnificent John was. Sherlock prepared himself and straddled John’s lap to lower himself. When they were united Sherlock resumed kissing John as if he were the most sacred thing in the world, his body moving carefully so both of them rose slowly.

It was slow and hot, both men caught up in their love and fear for one another. The shock of separation, the desperate worry they both had felt, the knowledge that their love was still both old and new and hadn’t had time to flourish, all of this fed into the act they performed together and their cries grew ardent and passionate. Sherlock lost the fight first. He tried to hold back, tried to wait for John but he couldn’t. With a deep groan Sherlock shuddered all over and gasped out his orgasm. John rocked himself in and out of Sherlock, keeping himself steady until his lover was limp and sated. Then John braced his feet and fucked Sherlock hard for a minute, spending himself deep into his long lean body while stars burst behind John’s eyes.

They slept.

John woke up stiffer than ever, his face and arm sore, his backside still tender and his wrists chaffed and aching. Sherlock was hard asleep, drooling a bit on his pillow which John found incredibly adorable. He woke up the second John tried to get out of bed and ended up groaning loudly as his body protested, “John, honey do you need some help?” Sherlock was mostly asleep and didn’t seem to realize he’d just used an endearment.

“No love, I can make it to the bathroom. I’ll be back though so don’t go anywhere.” Sherlock’s eyes fluttered shut and he seemed to doze off again. Once he’d relieved himself John washed up and came back to the bedroom with a warm damp flannel and cleaned Sherlock up while the sleepy man laughed softly and spread his legs a bit. “I’m too tired to fool around though.” declared John. Once Sherlock was freshened up John just lay back down and let his lover cuddle up.

They slept again.

This time when they woke it smelled like coffee in their flat. They never made coffee. Ignoring the stiffness of his body John got up with Sherlock silently behind him. They slipped on their robes and crept out front. “Oh. It’s you two.” Greg and Mycroft were sitting on the sofa looking uncomfortable and sipping take-away coffee they had brought. Sherlock took one and gave it to John. He sat on his chair and pulled John down onto his lap. John just adjusted himself until he was comfortable and drank his coffee.

“We need your statement.” said Lestrade. He was used to Sherlock’s ways and if this was a new thing then Greg was just going to go with it. John refused to talk to Mycroft and Sherlock smirked at his brother while John gave him the cold shoulder. When they were done with the statements Mycroft turned to the pair.

“Mary was released by someone outside my sphere of influence, someone who planned to make her part of their team. This person has been contacted and Mary has been removed yet again. She sent a message for John.” Mycroft held out a computer print-off. John took it, crumpled it up and threw it in the fireplace without reading it.

“She was supposed to be dead Mycroft. She shot Sherlock. She lied to me. She tried…..she was supposed to be DEAD. Where is she Mycroft?” John was fully angry again and could not look at Sherlock’s brother. Only Sherlock seemed aware that Mycroft was in grave danger and he snaked his long arms around John’s waist to hold him down.

“Removed, as I said Doctor Watson. She is not your concern.” Mycroft’s blasé attitude was the final straw for John. He was off Sherlock’s lap and crouched over Mycroft in a heartbeat. “What do you suppose you will gain by attacking me?” said Mycroft mildly.

“Relief. I’ll feel better knowing that you’re going to have two black eyes from the broken nose I’m about to give you. When that heals I’ll break it again so you end up with a big fat beak on your face. How does that sound Mycroft?” Mycroft’s only real weakness was his low-self-image, so much like Sherlock’s. He paled and Greg got angry.

“FUCK OFF WATSON! GET THE FUCK OFF OF HIM AND SHUT UP!” John ignored Lestrade and Mycroft simply produced another piece of paper.

“Her address or what was her address. France, that’s where she was supposed to remain.” John snatched it away and got off of Mycroft. Mycroft looked sad-eyed at Sherlock and John snapped again.

“Don’t try and play wounded feelings with me Mycroft Holmes. You knew where this killer bitch was this entire time and you let us both think we were out of reach from her. You let me trust you again Mycroft Holmes and once again I’ve learned that you are a fucking manipulative liar who will throw even his own brother under the bus to get something that you want. This had better not be a setup MYCROFT. If you piss me off one more time all of MI6 is not going to be able to protect you from me, I promise you.” Mycroft stood up with an ashen Greg.

“Understood Captain Watson. Good day. Sherlock.” Mycroft left with Lestrade in tow. Sherlock stood beside John and read the address. “Make the arrangements Sherlock. We’re going as soon as possible.”

Sherlock went to the fireplace and pulled out the piece of paper. He read it and then threw it away again. John refused to ask what Mary had said. Sherlock silently went online and booked their travel for the next day. John was angry and silent. This woman had lied and tricked him more than once. She was a threat to Sherlock, to John, to their entire life. John didn’t care if she looked like the woman he once thought he’d loved. Whoever she really was Mary Morstan was going to die.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mary Mary Mary - you have one destiny in my universe and one only


	12. Paris

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mary is alive. Sherlock and John have no choice but to go after her.

The rest of the day was shot for them. They were both exhausted but too wired with what had happened to rest. Sherlock was out of sorts and he wasn’t able to relax one jot. Every hour that passed had their nerves wound extra tight until both men were ready to snap. Finally John began to talk to Sherlock. “We met at a grief counselling group. She was there because she said she’d lost someone close to her recently and was having trouble moving on. Well, I was in the same boat wasn’t I? We began to sit near each other during sessions and eventually we started having coffee after.”

Sherlock came up close and John almost yanked him onto the sofa. Sherlock held John tightly which was just what John needed and wanted. He continued. “I didn’t know then that she was using the sessions to study me, to learn the role she was playing. She let me chase her; let me think that it was me making my own choices when it was always her. I wasn’t ready for the steps we took. I wasn’t ready to have a girlfriend but suddenly I had one. I wasn’t ready to leave 221 B but I started staying over with her and eventually I just stopped coming back. She set up a life I could handle and I fell into it because I had nowhere else to be.”

“I had planned on coming home so much sooner John. I did. I swear I did. I had no intentions of being gone for more than a couple of months, not two entire years. I’m sorry John. I’m so sorry.” John kissed Sherlock and continued.

“She was good wasn’t she? She fooled me. She fooled everyone. She fooled you but she couldn’t fool you forever, no one can. She fooled me so many times I’m ashamed of myself for not seeing, for not spotting how improbable some of it was. I thought I loved her and I did, I did love her Sherlock because she played a part designed specifically for me. She knew how to do and say all the things that would make me fall in love with her and for a while, I thought it was real and I was almost happy. Almost. Mary wasn’t you and no one could ever replace you. You tore us apart no matter how good she was. I loved you even if I never admitted to anyone, not even myself and she knew it and used that too.”

Trust was a serious issue with John because every single person he had ever cared about had betrayed him horribly, even Sherlock. Sherlock was the only one to have ever earned John’s trust back and now it was unshakeable. Sherlock had tricked and betrayed John specifically to save John’s life whereas everyone else had done it to destroy him. Mary had ripped John open with her betrayal and had tried to destroy him but John was immune to death, having died already with Sherlock. “You were such an arse for dying on me!”

“I’ve apologized for that a hundred times John. I can’t be sorrier than I am. I came back didn’t I? After everything I did….” Sherlock didn’t want to beg for forgiveness one more time and John didn’t want to make him.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for love. I just missed you while you were gone. It wasn’t your fault. You did what you could and you did it as quickly as you could, you showed me that and I believe you. You helped me, Mrs. Hudson and Greg. Mary worked for money. She didn’t care about me or what would happen to me. There was a paycheck at the end for her and for that money she was willing to figuratively gut me to get her contract paid! Nothing noble about that! She wasn’t loyal to anyone, she wasn’t invested in anything. I was a job to her. That I believed it at all is what hurts.”

They had to travel later on so John decided they needed to at least try to sleep. Both men were fitful and filled with turmoil. Sherlock clung to John all night long, even when the man was hard asleep. He had a nightmare too, waking up in the dark shouting hoarsely wordlessly and clutching at John. John shushed him gently and held Sherlock close until his lover fell asleep again. There were tears in Sherlock’s eyes and he looked pained. John wiggled around awkwardly until he had Sherlock’s head on his chest. John carded his fingers through Sherlock’s hair and hummed softly until Sherlock was relaxed and expressionless again.

When John woke again it was Sherlock who was cradling him in his arms, his long fingers running through John’s hair, “I’m here John. I’m here, I promised didn’t I, I’m here my love.” John held Sherlock tight and shook, the terrors that had ripped him from sleep still filling his body with tension. Sherlock rubbed his back and just let John collect himself. John steadied his nerves by listening to Sherlock’s heartbeat John fell asleep again.

A long time later Sherlock was kissing John awake. Sherlock needed him. It didn’t take long before they were kissing each other desperately; both men needed the comfort of the other. John’s eyes filled with tears he couldn’t stop and Sherlock was gasping out breaths that sounded suspiciously like sobs as they ground themselves together, hard and anxious. The relief they experienced as they climaxed wasn’t pleasure this time, it was a release of all the fear and darkness that had such fertile ground in each of them to thrive in. “I love you Sherlock. Oh fuck I love you.”

“John, you’d never leave me would you? You’d be with me always, you will won’t you?” The heartbreaking fear in Sherlock’s voice shattered John. His lover was terrified. Here in the dark in their bed Sherlock was unraveling at the seams with fear of abandonment.

“I can’t leave you. I’d die. I love you. You make me live. I need you Sherlock. I need you to be mine. You will, right? You’ll be mine?” Sherlock was crying outright now and nodding. Both men couldn’t stop. They weren’t like this and they could not stop. There was too much and it had all snowballed over a very few days and now both of them were about to leave their sanctuary to go hunt someone who had once been so close.

Eventually dawn arrived and with the light they were tired enough from everything to just fall asleep one last time. They awoke a couple of hours before their flight, eyes swollen and both with fearsome headaches. A hot shower helped, tea helped more but Mrs. Hudson helped the most when she popped in with breakfast for both of them. “Greg told me you’re leaving for France. I knew you’d been up all hours and you can’t eat that dreadful airline food! Don’t worry about your flat; I’ll take care of everything!”

“We’ll bring you back something from France. What would you like?” Mrs. Hudson was excited and had think about it while they ate up every scrap of her breakfast. “Maybe you could find me some lovely perfume? Nothing too whorish though. I don’t want to smell like one of John’s ex-girlfriends!”

Sherlock spit out his last mouthful while John protested that it had just been the one girl with extravagant perfume usage and she hadn’t been a prostitute. Sherlock just promised, “Anything you want Mrs. Hudson. If you change your mind and decide on something different you can just text us.” Mrs. Hudson kissed them both and sent them on their way.

Sherlock had packed for them since John was still sore. He put everything in a single large suitcase and wouldn’t let John carry anything. He held John’s hand tightly, even in the taxi and peered around everywhere they went as if searching for enemies. John appreciated it and stayed close to his lover. His head hurt and the flight wasn’t going to help him.

They got pulled aside by security because John was so beat-up looking, “I got mugged last night okay? I don’t want to cancel my vacation just because of it!” grudgingly the security guards decided John wasn’t a threat to airline security because of a couple of plasters on his face and let them board the plane. 

Sherlock asked for a pillow and blanket as soon as they were settled. He tucked John in and made him close his eyes. “We’ll rest here John; it’s the safest place so far. Stay by the window and I’ll hold your hand. We can get a bit of sleep before we land.” Sherlock tucked a pillow behind John’s head and John tugged on Sherlock’s arm until Sherlock’s head was on John’s shoulder. Sherlock took his hand as promised. Only then could John close his eyes and try to relax.

They got to their hotel in Paris uneventfully. Locking the door tight Sherlock and John showered, made love and went to bed. They slept themselves out and when they woke up they ate the continental breakfast John ordered from the kitchen, drank a lot of tea and dressed themselves. Sherlock stood there and let John button up his shirt. John had been quiet but he looked up to Sherlock seriously, “You will always be the very most important person in the world to me. Thank you Sherlock, for helping me do this.” There were no words for their goal. To speak it out loud was too much to ask. Leaving the room and hitting the streets John and Sherlock left behind everything safe about them and became hunters.

Sherlock was familiar with Paris. His family summered in France and came to the city often. He’d gone to school here a number of times as well so he and John slipped through the old streets and alleys like ghosts until they made it to the neighborhood Mary was supposed to be staying in. It was charming and beautiful, lots of old pavements and a well-worn feeling that all old cities had. Her building wasn’t impossible to find and Sherlock got them into the building across the street, both men not stopping until they were on the roof and looking down at the big windows of Mary’s Parisian flat.

They watched for a long time and then she was there. John felt a stab of shock as his body recognized her. There she was the woman John would have committed himself to for the rest of his life. He wanted to vomit. Mary Morstan was a dream created by the person walking about that room. John never knew this woman at all, even if she wore his ex-almost-fiancée’s face.

She’d gone back to her original brunette and John saw that it agreed with her more than the bright blond she had maintained when she was with John. She still had the same face, the same body but she moved differently and John wanted to be sick all over again when he realized she’d even faked the way she walked so that John would be attracted to her. How could someone be like that?

Mary was clearly getting ready to leave. She was dressed in a fine black skirt and elegant coal gray top. She looked chic and professional, not like the slightly-mismatched and awkward woman that John had found so appealing. Now John saw Mary as she really was, a killer for hire, cold, competent and regrettably alive. Sherlock drew John away from the edge and they crouched behind an air vent to talk, “Mycroft won’t tell us who she works for now. We’ll need to watch her and figure out a plan.”

They crept away again and made their way back to their room where there was a parcel waiting for them. “Is there any reason your brother seems incapable of being straightforward? I mean really Sherlock, sneaking parcels into our room while we’re gone? Couldn’t he have had this delivered while we were here?”

“Sneakiness is a survival trait with Mycroft. He can’t help himself. I can’t even imagine how Lestrade deals with it.” Sherlock opened the parcel. Inside were two handguns, a lot of bullets, two sheathed knives, two new phones and a business card to a clothing store called “Mystique”.

“Looks like your brother has finally thrown a clue our way. Do you think this is where she works or maybe her employer owns the business?” Sherlock examined the card as John asked questions. He stood up and thought for a moment.

“John. Mary bid on you instantly. She has access to information about our activities. Christopher clearly was connected in some way to either Mary or more likely her employer. I don’t think this particular shop has more than a tenuous connection to Mary or her mysterious employer. I believe we are meant to go shopping there and get disguises for our confrontation.” John took the card and examined it with greater care. There was the address, the store name and it was underscored but there wasn’t anything else on the card that seemed to give the nature of its business away. John looked closer. The underscore line was a whip.

“More leather?” he asked Sherlock with resignation.

“More leather. Let’s go John.” Sherlock took John’s hand and led him from the room. He let John eat from various shops they passed because the pastries were divine and John began to complain loudly that they hadn’t eaten enough food that day. This was his new rule. If death was imminent or bloodshed expected John needed at least one good meal that day. They had a lot of tiny cups of coffee and when they were far enough from their hotel Sherlock performed his taxi trick and then they were on their way to Mystique.

It was a discrete shop, the entrance in a narrow alley and the front window covered over with panels of material. Once they got inside it seemed crowded with bodies but were actually mannequins displaying a rather intense selection of fetish clothing. John groaned. Not again.

Sherlock had already engaged the shop-boy who was crushing on the tall gorgeous man. With fluttering eyes and little comments in French the willowy young man clearly flirted with Sherlock right in front of John. John stood there and just looked at the two of them. When the young man reached out to take Sherlock’s hand to guide him to another area of the store Sherlock yanked his hand back. Glaring down at the surprised young man Sherlock said, “John.” and John stepped forward.

Sherlock stood behind John’s left shoulder and peered over it. The young man looked disappointed but he was a professional so he led John instead to a section of the store containing leather body-suits and hoods. He explained things to Sherlock in French and Sherlock translated back in English to John. John looked everything over carefully until he found two acceptable outfits. The boots took a little longer because Sherlock’s feet were so big but while he argued with the young man John looked over the hoods that were available. He remembered Carl’s hood and looked for something similar. When they went to the club Mary worked at John did not want to be recognized. That reminded him, “Sherlock, we’ll need a different outfit for you. Put that one back. We need to cover your arse.”

The shop-boy complained to Sherlock in French about John’s request, clearly feeling that Sherlock’s ass should be on display and John had enough of it. He kept leaning in closer to Sherlock, suggestively running his fingers over a mannequin as he explained his reasons to Sherlock. John fumed then he stomped over to the pair and looked down at the young man, not caring if he understood or not, “This man is mine and I will dress him to suit myself and not you. Stop flirting with him, stop trying to touch him and just do your job or I will find some way of hurting you that you most certainly will not enjoy!”

Sherlock translated with a soft smile, gazing at John the entire time. John didn’t see because he was too busy glaring at the young man whose hands now fluttered around apologetically. John just stood back and jerked his head to the side. Sherlock went off and went through the displays until he found a different outfit. John inspected it and nodded his head. John went to another display and made his choices. After piling it all together Sherlock paid for everything and they left.

“John you really are amazing. That was….amazing.” Sherlock at a loss for words? John looked up at his lover and saw Sherlock biting his lower lip hard and looking hotly at John’s mouth. John stepped closer and Sherlock’s hands shook, just a bit. “When you get like that….I….so…John.”

“Shall we get back to our room then?” Sherlock nodded quickly and had to stand there a moment and just breathe. When he was able to raise his arm he flagged a taxi down and gave them the address of a patisserie close to their hotel. Sherlock held John’s hand tightly but did and said nothing so John just enjoyed the sights as they wove their way through Paris. Nothing registered except the press of long fingers around his. 

The walk from the patisserie to the hotel was frustratingly long. John wanted to just race there but they took their time, just walking side by side with their bags and made their way calmly through the hotel to their room. Sherlock locked the door as securely as he could, took off his coat and then hurried John off to the bedroom. “When you get like that John Watson….I can’t think. Seeing you so….John. Fuck.” Sherlock couldn’t explain himself so he just began kissing John, undoing their clothes as quickly as he could.

John helped because that’s what friends do. They tumbled to the bed laughing softly at the flurry of fabric and its wretched attempts to stay with them forever. Sherlock bit playfully at John’s neck and chest before he resumed kissing the doctor. “You like it when I get possessive.” Sherlock nodded. “Makes you want to be more than just friends, yeah.”

“You are a terrible tease John Watson. You know what I want.” John wanted it too. Sherlock magically produced their bottle of lube. John kissed his lover until Sherlock was limp and almost whimpering with desire once more.

“That’s very pretty love, on your knees.” Sherlock was shaky but he got on his knees and John pushed his head down until it was on the mattress, his ass high in the air. “That’s prettier.” John set to work eagerly. Each searching kiss made Sherlock moan and tremble until he was a wreck once more, calling for John to please do something, anything more. John did. By the time John was easing himself into Sherlock the man was beyond words, his body flushed all over and the cries from his lips unrestrained and natural. John loved every second. John kept it deep and steady, not wanting to hurt Sherlock but definitely not rushing his way through it.

Sherlock looked so good like this, bent low, his beautiful back displayed, the fine tracery of scars nearly invisible unless one knew where to look. John leaned over and kissed them. Most of them were from Sherlock himself, endless testament to his drive to experiment and some few were from The Work. John had many matching ones. John kissed Sherlock’s scars again before he reached down and took Sherlock in hand. Now Sherlock was calling John’s name in desperate gasps, his hips rocking back into John. With a groan John began to move as fast as he could, unable to stop himself from peaking but Sherlock just gave a shout and groan and joined John.

It was a long time before John could think clearly. He found himself lying beside Sherlock who was face down on the bed and sprawled out, still flushed and covered with sweat. John closed his eyes for just a minute had the strangest dream where he was a hedgehog and Sherlock was an otter. They lived near a beehive and Sherlock was arguing with the bees, telling them he just wanted to study all two hundred and twenty one of them. Sherlock insisted he wasn’t interested in their honey because he already had some honey of his own. Somehow or other this involved John and in the dream it was tender and sticky and Sherlock’s kisses were sweet and warm.

Sherlock kissed John awake. “You were having some kind of odd dream. You kept saying ‘honey otter’. I don’t think those socks were a good idea. They seemed to have triggered something untoward.”

“I love the socks. It was just a dream. Do you still do the micro-dots?” Sherlock blushed but nodded and was surprised to see the relief in John’s eyes. “Please tell me you have some here.”

“I do John. They’re on our luggage.” They got out of bed and sure enough Sherlock had smuggled extra micro-dots by putting them on their suitcases right in plain sight. They were tiny little shiny black dots and he had arranged several of them in a neat grid so it looked like their suitcase was lightly decorated. John had to laugh at the success of it. Sherlock put one in each new outfit and on each of the different pieces they had on to wear. After their shower, Sherlock even went so far as to tuck one into John’s hair, placing one in his as well.

“We can’t be too careful. I don’t plan on being separated but if it happens I want to be able to find you without help. I can’t speak French.” Well John knew some words but none of them would get him any helpful attention. It would be best if they could both manage to not be kidnapped that night or if it happened, that they both be kidnapped together. Sherlock patiently showed John how to use the micro-dots to track; setting everything up on John’s mobile so it was as simple as possible.

“You’ll have to learn how to use technology properly someday John. You can’t just keep stabbing your phone with your finger until magic things happen.” Okay John wasn’t that bad but compared to Sherlock who was of course, a genius with everything, John’s mastery of complicated things like mobiles and laptops was a bit behind the times.

“What now?” John didn’t have a plan now that they were here but Sherlock did. That’s why they were such a good team. 

“Tailing Mary back to her place of work will be difficult but manageable. We can assume she has eyes everywhere so a disguise will be a bit necessary but nothing too out of place, hats and glasses work better than you can imagine. Once we’ve determined which club she’s at we can simply go there and try to find her. Once we get there, well. We’ll see how that plays out.” They weren’t there to catch a killer. They were there to end Mary. Her very existence was a threat to both John and Sherlock. She was a trained assassin, ordered to kill them and she hadn’t. Not yet. She was patient. That was her trademark. They were dead men and until Mary was dead herself she would not stop even though the people who had hired her were dead. She had a contract to fulfill and for the woman once known as Mary Morstan, leaving a contract unfulfilled simply was not done. She’d be automatically wired her money when John and Sherlock’s death certificates registered. 

They went to a gift shop and got what they needed and another clothing store garnered them new coats to cover their club clothes. Once evening approached they donned their simple disguises and followed Mary through Paris like ghosts. She was clever, taking different taxis, walking for short periods and taking a taxi again. Sherlock was better and they kept up with her easily. The club was underground and already had a line of people waiting to get in, shamelessly standing in their fetish gear on the street. Once they had the location Sherlock and John went back to their room to prepare.

This time both men were covered from head to toe, their snug fabric hoods pulled down even over their necks so not one bit of flesh showed anywhere. Sherlock’s clothes fitted him in two parts, the upper a long black shirt cut like a tunic so his very recognizable arse was safely covered from all eyes. John’s top had two rigid pieces of leather going over his shoulders and down his back, giving him a strangely Asian warrior look and concealed his weapons perfectly.

When they were booted up John pulled out his last purchase, a black collar with long sharp metal spikes that radiated straight away from Sherlock’s neck in a risky fan. The straps met along a metal heart, “John it’s gorgeous!” John knew Sherlock would love it. With a smile beneath his hood John carefully buckled the collar.

“Come on beautiful, it’s time to kick some fucking ass.” They couldn’t kiss but they didn’t need to. Knowing the other man was smiling behind his hood they pulled on their coats and called the car service that would deliver them discretely to the club. Phones tucked away both men stood in line with everyone else, John holding Sherlock on a leash that he produced the second someone looked their way. He didn’t want Sherlock tethered tonight. If they had to fight he wanted to undo a single clip and set Sherlock free or failing that at least let him go.

The club was nothing like Kirk’s which was homey in comparison. Here it was dark and throbbing with energy, the club packed with every sort of person in every sort of combination. There was more than one stage and several cages suspended with heavy chains above a dance floor, most of them had people in them. Sherlock and John hit the dance floor immediately, using their motions to cover the fact that they were examining everything around them intently.

They weren’t the only fully hooded couple there; in fact, they didn’t stand out at all. There were so many others that caught the eye dramatically that Sherlock and John were shadows. Dancing their way around the floor they moved as one to a long set of stairs that led to the next floor up. One floor at a time they covered the building but found nothing more than more dance space and small bars set against the walls to serve the customers. Sherlock danced close, “Basement.”

They made their way back down to the main floor. The basement door was almost hidden and only Sherlock’s sharp eyes saw where it opened. Silently they pushed it open and followed the stairs downward. There was a series of offices but before they could begin their search they heard a man’s voice shouting, “They’re here! They were spotted. What the fuck is wrong with you? How could you risk everything to buy a toy?”

“You don’t understand. You wanted them and I got them for you. You didn’t say how. You just said do it. Once this is done you owe me no matter what my first contract said. I could have walked away and just vanished but now they know I’m loose. They’ll never stop. That little fuck is a like a god damned bulldog. He’s got instincts, he almost tripped me up a hundred times and you know that just doesn’t happen with me.”

“I know it doesn’t. It’s not like you to be careless.” the man’s voice was condescending and Mary snarled. “I’d almost say you had feelings for the sweet doctor.”

“You’ve never been in the same room with John Watson and Sherlock Holmes so you really don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about do you! There is no disguise good enough. One of them you could fool, maybe but not forever. Both of them? Impossible. I had the wool over John’s eyes but Sherlock took one look at me and saw I was a lie. He picked at it and picked at it until it all came to pieces. That one would have killed me except John wouldn’t like it. Are you following me? Do you understand? If they’re here now you are entirely fucked unless you are already ready. Are you, because you’d better not be depending on me to pull your arse out. Once you have them I’m gone. You pay and I stay gone. Screw me over and I will pick off every single person that means something to you and make them die slowly.”

“Always with the threats. It scared me the first time you said that but the thousand times since then haven’t affected me so much. Listen, you took that contract against my advice, I’m just cleaning up after you. Sherlock screwed a lot of us over after what happened and he owes us. That’s why he’s supposed to come here.” John made a note to punch Mycroft in the face if they made it back to London, this was another set-up. 

Mary sounded agitated now, “Money. That’s what I want. James promised me cash for Sherlock and he didn’t deliver. Instead of letting me kill John and then kill Sherlock at the funeral Jim decided to follow through on his doctor-crush and keep the little bugger alive! I mean really? He could have had Sherlock but instead Moriarty wanted John? Oh god I laughed when I found out. He actually thought that if he killed Sherlock John would go to him! Well that got him killed didn’t it. Not me. I had the doctor and he’s okay but he’s not a shag worth dying for.” 

Sherlock was like stone. John moved silently but pressed himself to Sherlock and reached up to stroke his fingers over Sherlock’s heart, a silent message of devotion. Sherlock relaxed and nodded. It was time. John pulled out his gun and Sherlock took the knives. Sherlock leaned over quickly and kissed John through their masks before stepping behind him. John pushed open the door. The man complained, “Oh for fuck’s sakes, the dancing is upstairs! How did you get down here?”

The man was dark of hair, slick and dapper. He was sitting behind a large desk and Mary was slumped comfortably into a plush chair. She rolled her eyes and got up to throw them out, both of them thinking they were simple club goers who had gotten lost. John raised his gun and she stopped cold. Sherlock’s gun was pointed at the man, “Raise your hands.” said the detective.

“Jesus fuck. Sherlock.” Mary looked sick. Suddenly she was twisting and spinning through the air and John felt her fist whoosh past his face as he managed to pull to the side just in time. “IT’S THEM! KILL THEM, NOW!” Mary had launched an instant attack. Clawing at John’s face she managed to rip his mask off. Sherlock pulled his mask off and dove at the man behind the desk who was trying to rip a drawer open.

Mary was fast. They exchanged rapid-fire blows. John forgot she was a woman, she was a living weapon. Every part of her was dangerous. John felt one of her strikes bruising his bad shoulder. Mary knew his weak spots and was going right for them. Well, John knew hers as well. Dropping to the floor John punched the inside of Mary’s right leg and heard her scream with pain. She had a torn tendon there once and it had never properly healed, leaving one leg slightly weaker than the other. She dropped to her other knee and then John was looking into her eyes.

He recognized them. He knew every shift of color in her blue eyes, how every lash grew out, how her eyebrows moved, the curve of her nose, the lines on her face because she smiled a lot. He looked into that face, into those eyes and saw the sociopath Sherlock had always claimed to be. This creature had no soul. Whoever Mary really was this transmutable shell in front of him wasn’t her. This creature was empty and hollow, heartless, inhuman and monstrous. She’d killed her way through life because it meant so little to her that she felt it a fair trade to get cash for the miracles of existence she had extinguished.

Without hesitation John shot Mary through the heart. Half a second later he shot her surprised face right between her lying eyes and watched her fall. He turned to help Sherlock but he wasn’t there. While John had fought with Mary Sherlock had been taken away. His knives were on the carpet. Leaving Mary’s body to bleed where it was John pulled his hood on again, activated his phone and picked up Sherlock’s blades. The blood had only begun to flow tonight and John was on the hunt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I almost feel sorry for the bad guys.


	13. Crossing the Line

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock has been stolen away from John. That won't do. That won't do at all.

John walked swiftly down the hallways beneath the nightclub, his mobile extended in front of him along with his handgun. Quick glances down told him when to turn left or right, when to kick through a door to get into a different hallway and when to leave the floor they were on. John wasn’t slowing down for anything. Someone had Sherlock and John wasn’t putting up with that for one second longer than he had to.

Stupid fucking lowlife criminals! John hated them. They were all the same, all doing the same stupid thing over and over again. If this man knew who John and Sherlock were why would he take Sherlock knowing full well John would kill to get him back? Even before they had become a couple John had been a force to be reckoned with when someone threatened his best friend. Now John moved swiftly but cautiously, his years of experience telling him to watch for traps. The cluster of flashing dots stopped for a minute and John hoped he had finally caught up. He pushed through a set of metal doors. There was an underground parking garage and John heard the squeal of tires. FUCK.

John made it to the street, helplessly watching the taillights of a dark car go around the corner. He hadn’t gotten a glimpse of the licence plate, he wasn’t really sure about car models; he didn’t know where they were taking Sherlock! John stopped a taxi by stepping into the road and forcing one to stop or run him down. Clearly it had been a tough choice but John was inside before the taxi driver could object. “I need you to follow my instructions as fast as you can.”

With gestures the driver indicated that he didn’t speak English and if that was a problem John could just get out of the cab and fuck off. John was pissed off and frustrated and knew damn well the asshole spoke English because he had been speaking English to the dispatcher when John had jumped in. John drew his gun and pointed it at the dash. “Drive now, turn left immediately and keep going. We’re losing time and if you don’t help me I’ll shoot you, take your cab and leave you bleeding in the street!”

“Okay, first left.” said the driver and got to driving. John was livid. The vehicle was even further away now! He urged the driver to go as fast as he could, making him do lefts and rights as dictated by the trail on his map. He didn’t dare diverge from it in case obstacles came up that would delay him even more. John’s heart wanted to race but he forced himself to remain calm, for an instant wishing he was in regular clothes and not head to toe Dom gear. He took his hood off, the driver asking, “This part of a game?”

“Not really. Someone kidnapped my boyfriend so I have to kill them.” John didn’t give a fuck what he said to anyone right now. He was mad enough to rip someone’s throat open with his bare hands. He pounded his fist into his thigh, wishing they could go faster, wishing he knew what was happening to Sherlock right then. Suddenly one of the markers blinked out. Fuck. They were stripping Sherlock! Sure enough they passed a mound of leather on the side of the road. John just left it, there were other micro-dots and Sherlock would survive being naked. Still, one at a time they blinked off until just one was left, the one in Sherlock’s hair.

John breathed carefully, controlling the anxiety and anger that raged. One deep breath at a time he calmed until he was a deep still pool. His heart-rate slowed and everything around John took on new clarity. Soldier John had arrived. He checked his hand-gun calmly, tucked the extra clips someplace handy and slipped the knives into the tops of his boots. He still had Sherlock’s leash so he coiled it up properly and hung it off his belt. Eyes on the mobile John saw they had finally stopped. He read off the address and the taxi driver said, “Five minutes.”

Five minutes to Sherlock. John’s entire body prepared. He was focused and tranquil. He kept his gun in his left hand and kept his right hand free. When they arrive they were at a large office complex the taxi driver was surprised when John dropped a large handful of Euros onto his seat and walked away without a word. “Good luck.” he shouted before driving away at high speed.

One thing John loved about arrogant people was the hubris. Confident that they had shaken John off their trail the bastards who had Sherlock hadn’t locked the door to their building. It pushed open easily. There was a bank of lifts that required a key-code to enter. John studied the panel. He thought of what Sherlock would say about the pattern of marks left behind and tapped in a code. The door opened and John shook his head wryly. He’d have to tell Sherlock he’d learned something again.

The signal went down so John chose the basement levels. It went down three floors and John’s signal went to the second basement level. He got off the lift slowly. There was no one and the only illumination were faint lights set high on the walls so the hallways seemed filled with twilight. John followed the trail his phone laid out. According his mobile Sherlock was in a room half-way down the next hallway. John moved silently, noting the location of various security cameras. He knew these models from their cases and knew exactly where to step beneath them so no one caught John’s movements on camera. His enemies may know John took the elevator but they’d never know where he was on the floor.

John heard voices at last, but the sound came from everywhere it seemed. There were only a few doors and John moved from one to the other, “He won’t shut up! Tape his mouth shut or something.” John smiled. Sherlock could be an annoying prick when he wanted to be. John hoped he was being the most aggravating asshole ever right now. “MY WIFE IS NOT LEAVING ME SHUT UP!” John was tempted to linger for a minute but kept searching for the right door. They deserved whatever Sherlock was deducing at them.

John heard a meaty thud and silence. The soldier was through the nearest door in a second. Sherlock was sprawled out naked on the floor, his mouth bloody and a large beefy man shouting curses in French at him. The man who had been in the office with Mary was there and he looked horrified when John burst through the door. John shot him in the thigh and left him screaming where he fell. The shouting man whipped around and also shot at John but missed. John raised his gun but the man quickly shot a second time, hitting John high in the arm, close to the flesh-wound from before but much bloodier. John’s gun dropped from his numb hand.

The man laughed and raised his gun. Sherlock kicked him from the floor but the big man staggered only a bit and dropped his gun close enough for Sherlock to bat it away toward John. The man then kicked Sherlock in the face, hard enough to knock the detective out. John went wild. John’s knife was in his right hand in an instant but the man was armed too and both his hands were fine. Blades flashed and John’s leather suit saved him more than once from long slices. 

The man had a longer reach and if he ever struck John it would be over. He was slower though, his long arms taking long to recover from the swings he took at John. Each time the man managed to lay a blade on John his suit took a cut. It wouldn’t be long before the protective layer was flayed right off of him and John would be defenseless. The soldier’s arm burned and the blood was dripping down it slowly. The big man was grinning, clearly confident that he would win. It was just a matter of time before he overpowered the much smaller soldier.

John never gave up because it wasn’t in him to give up. He waited for just the right moment, feigning greater injury than he actually suffered though it did hurt. Compared to some of the times John had been damaged though, this was nothing. It was almost good that John had bled so much for The Work. He’d built up a resistance to pain. The other man had not. John cut him to ribbons one slice at a time. John darted in and sliced the man high on his arm, right where his collar bone emerged. When John’s blade ran across the man’s deltoid muscle his arm fell uselessly to his side. He stabbed at John with his other arm but John blocked it with his wounded arm and drove his blade into the other man’s head, the hilt jutting out of the bottom of his jaw. John let the body drop where it would and went right to Sherlock.

The long pale man was coming round. Sherlock was dazed, naked but he seemed alright. “John. You found me. I thought you’d break the phone first.” John had to laugh. He really wasn’t good with technology. They weren’t done with the body count. Both men turned to Office Man who had fallen silent; tears dripping from his face even as he bled. “He was going to sell me John. Why do people keep trying to do that?”

“You’re an annoying little arse and people tend to hate you the first time they meet you. You’ve evolved as a person and graduated from people wanting to punch you in the face to wanting to kill you.” said John absently. Sherlock snorted a laugh of agreement and John crouched down by his new friend, “Hey. I’m John. Mary was going to introduce us but I killed her before she could get around to it.”

The man stared up at John and Sherlock knelt down beside John, uncaring of his nudity. He sounded only mildly curious when he asked, “Mary mentioned Moriarty. How are you connected to Jim? How did you come across Mary? Why did you want to sell me and to whom?” 

The man stared up at John who tore a leg off the man’s pants to tie a tourniquet high on his leg to stop the bleeding in the gunshot wound John had given him. After a professional assessment given in a glance John didn’t feel too optimistic about the man’s chances so he said, “I understand your position. I’d want to be brave and silent too if I were in your place. I admire that.”

“You won’t hurt me. She said you didn’t have it in you.” the man was unbelievable. He used John’s psychotic ex to trap John’s boyfriend, kidnapped Sherlock, let someone try to kill John and thought nothing was going to happen to him? John already had two dead bodies to his name. A third wasn’t going to be a problem.

“She didn’t know me as well as she thought. I was in the army, did she tell you that? You learn a lot when you move around as much as I did. I’m a curious person. Not Sherlock curious but pretty curious. So many people want to be friends with a doctor, did you know that? Oh yeah, they want to share all their little secrets with a friendly foreign doctor. Do you understand the precision it takes to become a surgeon, the kind of nerves it takes to operate in the middle of a war zone? This is nothing, a nice quiet little office, lots of privacy and a great big noisy club right upstairs to drown out your screams and you will scream mate.” The entire time he had been talking John had been running the tip of his knife up and down the man’s torso.

“John I don’t believe he wants to talk. You’re bleeding as well so you don’t have forever and I’m getting cold. Sherlock took the coat and the trousers from the man John had stabbed. They were too wide for him but were considerably better than getting through Paris naked. John cut a strip of cloth off the office man’s pants and tied Sherlock’s stolen pants on. The man groaned for a minute and then they went back to him.

John tapped his lips thoughtfully and looked at Sherlock, “Well? Where’s the most painful place to start?” He and Sherlock began a spirited argument over musculature, bone density, nerve clusters and finally getting so technical and graphic that the man on the floor snapped, “Please god no! She was sent to me on recommendation from my superior, I have no idea how he knew her. Moriarty used to come here with that Moran character; he used to do business with my employer. I just run the club. I was just supposed to handle your sale and that was it!”

“Who is your superior? Why sell Sherlock? Who wanted to do that and who were you going to offer him to?” the man was fading fast, the tourniquet applied far too late. John tried to feel bad about the life that ended in front of him but all he felt was regret that they didn’t have the answers they needed and now there was a short stack of bodies to be accounted for. 

Sherlock called his brother. John took the phone away, “You owe me a lot Mycroft Holmes so here it is; there are three dead bodies here and they need to be not here. I’ve been shot, I need to stitch it up and clean it. We need transportation from here to our room and we need it right away. Can I trust you for once to do something helpful without it biting me in the ass later on or do I need to come have a talk with you FACE to face?”

“The supplies you require will be waiting for you in your room and a car will arrive shortly at your location. The rest will be dealt with by my associate. Good evening Doctor Watson.” Mycroft ended the call and Sherlock smiled painfully down at him. His face was swelling where he had been kicked but some ice would take care of that. John needed to check his lover over but Sherlock didn’t seem fatally hurt so they made it out of the building by leaning on one another, Sherlock’s hand clasped over John’s new bullet wound to keep it from bleeding so much.

“I interfered with a lot of powerful people over those two years I was gone. I suppose enemies were inevitable. This is a far cry from running around London chasing after art thieves and serial killers.” Sherlock was looking down at John. 

The soldier sighed and just shrugged, regretting the action immediately because he had made Sherlock rub his newest bullet hole accidentally. “That’s our life though, isn’t it? You said it could be dangerous. I’m still here.” Sherlock smiled down at John and they just left the bodies behind.

A long black car slid up and John wouldn’t have been surprised to see Anthea inside texting away on her phone. They got in silently and said nothing as they arrived back at their hotel. They didn’t look at the desk clerk as they bled their way wordlessly past the main desk and into the lift. As promised there was a large med-kit sitting in the middle of their hotel room. John climbed into the shower with Sherlock and both men just washed up mutely. Sherlock washed John’s hair after picking out the micro-dot and John fished out the one in Sherlock’s hair, setting it aside, “I’m keeping that one.” he said and Sherlock smiled.

After they were clean they eased their way out of the shower and John sat at the edge of the tub while Sherlock stitched him up and put plasters over the myriad of nicks all over John’s body that he hadn’t even noticed. After John was patched up he checked Sherlock all over and fixed up a cold compress for his bruised face. Ordering dinner in with two bottles of wine, they made themselves comfortable on the strange sofa and watched French television. 

“It’s been a long day.” said John. He was tired now. The wine had been excellent and the pain was almost entirely unnoticeable. Sherlock helped John up and they staggered their way to bed, a tiny bit drunk and suddenly bone tired. These life and death situations were getting harder and harder to bounce back from.

Sherlock lay John down and straddled his hips. John smiled up at his lover who still looked lumpy on one side of his face, “John I want to have sex because I feel the moment demands it but truthfully you look like hell and I feel like shit. Would it be alright if we cuddled for a while and just slept for two days?”

“Sounds perfect.” said John with a yawn. Sherlock cuddled up tight, careful to not lay his arm directly over John’s many cuts though it took a bit of maneuvering to find enough space. For the next two days they didn’t leave the room. Minions came and took the weapons back without comment. John and Sherlock just ordered in and relaxed, doing nothing at all but healing and just being together. John’s cuts sealed over and Sherlock’s face didn’t bruise very badly so after they felt rested they went back to London. “We’ll come back for a proper holiday.”

Mrs. Hudson cooed and fretted over them, forcing tea on them and fresh baked cake. She tutted over Sherlock’s face and fussed over John’s arm, kissing both of them on the head and scolding them for worrying an old lady. Still they hadn’t forgotten her perfume and gave her a small bottle of something unearthly that earned her instant forgiveness, “Get some rest. I’ll go get some shopping in for you. I’ll be back in an hour.” She really was the best.

John and Sherlock limped upstairs and put John’s new outfit away. Sherlock only regretted losing his spiked collar. “I really like that one!” he complained. John promised to get him a new, sharper collar and Sherlock was mollified. Showers accomplished and robes firmly tied both men went out to have tea with the plate of cookies they found on their table. The fridge had fresh milk now along with an assortment of other things as well as two plates of dinner that just needed heating up. The next time they traveled they’d get Mrs. Hudson a more extravagant present, which was for certain because she was really the best.

After dinner was eaten and tea enjoyed John figured things would never be more perfect for them than it was right then so he just got on with it, “Sherlock, I got something for you the other day, something I hope you’ll like.” 

Sherlock looked interested and John felt nervous for a searing moment. He took a deep breath and smiled up at his best friend. “We do a lot of crazy things together, a lot. A silly amount really and two grown men shouldn’t enjoy it as much as we do but there it is. I could spend the rest of my life writing about all the amazing things we do together and I’d never have time to write it all down because more happens every single day and I can’t get enough. I wanted to thank you for that Sherlock and I wanted to ask that it never stops, not for as long as possible. I want to run through dark alleys with you and solve strange mysteries and find odd things in our fridge. I’d like to make you tea while you work and find you in bed with me when I sleep and just do all the things we’ve been doing but forever. What it all boils down to is this Sherlock. I love you and I have for years. I want to marry you and I want to know if you’d be willing to marry me?” John held out a small black leather box rimmed with silver. When he opened it up there was a silver band inside and it had a key-lock inscribed on it, “Sherlock Holmes, would you do me the honor of becoming my husband?”

John Watson had surprised Sherlock Holmes yet again. Sherlock’s mouth opened and closed several times but his eyes didn’t blink. They were fixed on the ring like he could not believe what he was seeing and feared to look away in case it disappeared. When he kept staring at it John raised Sherlock’s chin with his finger, “Sherlock?”

“John. I.” Sherlock was having incredibly difficulty speaking. His eyes were burning into John’s now and he looked almost feverish, “John…John you really want this? Me? How! When? I didn’t think…..”

John took Sherlock in his arms and kissed him with all the love in his heart. Sherlock was stiff with shock at first but soon he was melting into John, his long arms once again wrapping around the doctor and holding tight, “I want this Sherlock, you have no idea how I want this. It would make everything right. Did you think I would live here with you as crazy as you are or sleep with you even when I’m not gay if I didn’t have feelings for you? I love you, of course I love you. I want to be married to you so no one can take you away from me; I want you all for myself for as long as possible.”

“You’re serious.” Sherlock was still gaping.

“I’m very serious.”

“I can’t believe it.”

“I’m still waiting here.”

“I never imagined!”

“Sherlock, is that a yes or no?”

“I can’t believe you asked me to marry you!”

“Sherlock!”

“I never thought you…..”

“SHERLOCK HOLMES THE NEXT WORDS OUT OF YOUR MOUTH HAD BETTER BE ‘YES’ or ‘NO’. WILL YOU MARRY ME?”

Sherlock blinked and shook his head in surprise, “Yes of course I’ll marry you John; how could you think the answer would be anything but yes?” Then Sherlock was hugging John tight, lifting the smaller man up and kissing him as hard as he could. “Say it again John.”

“I love you Sherlock and I want to marry you.” That earned John another hearty kiss and the biggest happiest smile he’d ever seen on Sherlock. Suddenly Sherlock looked like a very young man, boyish and blushing, “I really do. I love you and I want to marry you.”

Sherlock fell back onto the sofa and took John with him. Both men were giggling and rolling around, nearly falling off the cushions as they kissed. Finally John caught Sherlock’s hand and with a cheeky smile slid the silver ring onto him. John kissed it and looked up at Sherlock, “It will be a very great honor for me and I hope you understand that.”

“Thank you John but it is I who am honored.” Sherlock kissed John tenderly, “You have to meet my family. I can promise you nearly as much fun as we had at your mum’s.”

John groaned and rolled his eyes but kissed Sherlock hard, “That’s all fine. As long as you’re willing to marry me I can deal with just about anything. After all, it’s been years and I haven’t tried to kill Mycroft even once, which has to count for something.”

Sherlock looked away from his ring for a minute, “Speaking of Mycroft, are you really going to break his nose?”

“Sherlock what kind of question is that? Of course I’m going to break his nose. He knew he was sending us into a trap and he still let us go! He bungled handling Mary. She was never supposed to be free! Mycroft’s rich, he can afford surgery to have it corrected and Greg will love taking care of him while he recovers.” Mycroft was going to get it twice if John could manage it! Sherlock’s brother or not Mycroft was still the British Government and there were only so many times you could get away with punching the government in the face.

“He did provide the guns and got rid of the bodies.” that was an excellent point and John couldn’t really argue about not spending their lives in a prison somewhere in France. 

“Fine, I’ll just yell at him but he deserves a broken nose.” Sherlock found this to be incredibly attractive. Hustling the doctor in front of him Sherlock soon had John pinned to the bed, covering the doctor with kisses. “It’s been too long already.”

“Let’s correct that.” Sherlock got John’s robe untied and rid both of them of their clothes as quickly as he could. When he had John laid out in front of him Sherlock straddled John’s hips again. He liked this position and John enjoyed watching his lover above him. Sherlock began slowly, just gently stroking them both with firm, almost thoughtful touches. He leaned over to kiss John often, sometime resting his forehead against John’s as he began to breathe harder, his hand moving with increased purpose.

John realized this was what he enjoyed, watching Sherlock climb higher and higher, knowing he was the only person who got to enjoy watching this normally purely cerebral man give into his nature so completely. Sherlock was so beautiful. His cheeks flushed and the sweat on his brow made his curls begin to stick. His bottom lip was getting red from him biting it hard time and again. John reached up and pulled Sherlock down, holding his hand firmly at the base of Sherlock’s neck. “Harder.”

Sherlock began to rock his hips and stroking, moving slowly at first until he’d developed a rhythm and then he began to go faster and pressed harder. John groaned at the shocks of bliss he felt each time Sherlock’s hard flesh slid over his. His fingers tightened on Sherlock’s neck and his other hand tangled into Sherlock’s curls. “God. Yes. John!”

John tugged Sherlock’s curls lightly and watched in astonishment as Sherlock came helplessly, gasping and moaning his hands now covering John’s to keep them on his head, their cocks abandoned as he moaned, “I had no idea.” said John. Who knew Sherlock would enjoy having his hair pulled so much?

John was still hard and aching but Sherlock was spent so John just ignored his own erection for now and let Sherlock recover. Several minutes later Sherlock rumbled, “That’s never happened before.”

Well that made the throb in his groin worth it. Something else that only John Watson could do to Sherlock Holmes! Not too shabby. “You liked it.”

“Obviously John, it was unexpected though. You constantly surprise me. Your touch alone makes ordinary things extraordinary. You’re quite remarkable John.” Sherlock managed to lift his head up to kiss John softly, “Just give me a few minutes.”

“It’s okay love. Sleep if you want.” Sherlock might have wished to doze off but he didn’t let himself. When he was able to move he curled up against John and reached his slicked hand down. Moving soft at first Sherlock began to slowly caress and tease John until John had slowly worked himself up to a fast hard rhythm. When John was close Sherlock moved and kissed the doctor hard so when he came Sherlock’s mouth was on his, muffling his cries and tasting John’s ecstasy. John couldn’t move afterward so Sherlock did the tidying this time and tucked them both in. “I love you.” mumbled John, his eyes closed.

“I’m glad. Sleep John.” Sherlock spooned up behind John and held onto him. John fell asleep feeling like a gigantic plush toy that was being hugged in half. Sherlock managed to wind himself all around John, holding him securely to him and soon he was snoring loudly into the back of John’s head. Both men were happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> John's handling of his enemies might perhaps be seen as OOC for the doctor but it really isn't. He's a killer even if he looks adorable in his little jumpers holding his little cup of tea.
> 
> So...Holmes Sweet Holmes seems next on the agenda, what do you think?


	14. Pink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Safe and sound back in London Sherlock decides he wants to give something a try.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a date with a viking last night and we had a lot of wine. I got this prompt after a bottle or so and it seemed like a fantastic idea so I did it. Ravenwolf36, thanks, I hope you enjoy it.
> 
> the inspirational song suggested is 'Porn Star Dancing by My Darkest Days'

Sherlock at home was a very different animal these days. He seldom bothered to dress and seemed to be devoting himself to a study in sensuality. John made sure to always, always lock and bolt the door, just in case. Sherlock wanted long evenings of kisses and caresses, slow hot love-making and lots of oral sex, as much as John could deal with. It wasn’t a difficult adjustment to make in-between cases and work.

John had come home from a short shift at work to find Sherlock in a robe with a small bottle of something amber. Sherlock had the lights dimmed and the furniture moved back. “John, do you recall the day I brought the hands home?” as if John could forget being caught dirty dancing with the Hoover! “John you were incredibly sexy. I wanted to try dancing for you.”

Well, John didn’t have a lot of objections to this so after a quick dinner because Sherlock wanted John to focus the tall man disappeared into the bedroom and told John to wait in the living room. John sat on the sofa and made himself comfortable. He noticed the end table had a small stack of notes on it and wondered why he needed cash. Suddenly music was playing, something John vaguely recalled hearing at one of the pubs or maybe even one of the clubs they’d been to recently. The beat was strong, dynamic and the man who sang had a voice that was smoke roughened and almost raspy.

Sherlock came in wearing a long almost sheer robe and began to dance. John couldn’t breathe. The robe was loosely tied and kept revealing little flashes of pale flesh, when Sherlock’s hips began to sway and dip the ties loosened completely and the robe began to leave Sherlock. The music was perfect as he twisted and bent, the song repeating itself as Sherlock turned to face John, allowing the robe to slip off completely.

If John had been aroused before he was rock hard now. Sherlock’s amazing behind was nearly fully exposed in a bright pink thong. The bright flash of color drew the eye down and made the generously rounded cheeks of Sherlock’s behind seem paler than ever. As he shimmied and twisted some more Sherlock turned himself about so John could see how the thong rode past Sherlock’s hipbones to hug him intimately, barely keeping him contained. His long lithe body had found the rhythm of the music and now all of Sherlock was dancing, his arms, his torso, his hips, his legs.

John couldn’t get enough of those long beautiful limbs. Sherlock’s body was the most incredibly arousing thing John had ever had the grace to witness. Sherlock was so slim, so strong, so…holy fuck was he flexible! Sherlock had worked in a rather tricky looking dance move that ending with one of his feet up on the mantle, his shoulders still shimmying. How did he do that? The song was on a loop, ending and starting all over again without a skip or pause.

As the song drew to a close for another round Sherlock bent over and retrieved something from the floor. A small squeeze bottle filled with honey. Tipping his head back Sherlock allowed a few drops to drip onto his clean-shaven chest and his long fingers swirled over the stickiness. Popping one finger at a time into his mouth Sherlock sucked the honey away and kept dancing.

He tipped his head back again but now John was there. He gripped Sherlock’s hips and brought the man close. He knew what the notes were for now and with a smile he tucked one into the thin band that held Sherlock’s thong together. Sherlock dropped down, straddling John’s thigh as they began to move and sway together. Sherlock tugged off John’s jumper and shirt. With each item that disappeared more notes arrived in Sherlock’s thong. They shifted enough for Sherlock to spoon up behind John, undoing his trousers and removing them by pushing his hands deep inside and forcing the material off, pants and all. When they were both naked except for Sherlock’s vibrant pink thong John took the bottle of honey and dribbled a little on each of Sherlock’s nipples. Using just his tongue John licked them clean.

Their dancing had slowed until their hips were just swaying back and forth, John allowing himself to bump directly against Sherlock’s hardness occasionally. The doctor was busy tasting one bit of Sherlock’s chest after another, working his way down until he was kneeling on the floor, music forgotten. The notes scattered to the floor as John slowly tugged the thong off, releasing Sherlock’s erection. John took the bottle and squeezed one large drop of honey on the tip of Sherlock’s cock. Teasing his lover slowly John lapped gently before softly sucking the honey off.

Sherlock’s groans were broken and desperate as John dribbled honey along the shaft of Sherlock’s cock, licking it off and slowly taking all of Sherlock in until John’s head was bobbing steadily and Sherlock was gripping the mantle, his legs spread wide. When John’s hand slid to grasp Sherlock’s lush behind the taller man gave a desperate moan, “Bedroom Sherlock. Now!”

Sherlock staggered away immediately, his cock bobbing inelegantly in front of him. John was right behind his lover, admiring the finger marks on his ass from where John had squeezed him tight. Sherlock began to kneel on the bed but John stopped him, “I want to ride you.” Sherlock trembled all over when he heard John.

“God. Yes.” Sherlock lay on his back and John straddled his hips. Taking the lube John trickled some on Sherlock’s fingers and leaned forward to kiss him while Sherlock’s eager fingers prepared John. It was gorgeous, hot, and a bit sticky. As Sherlock’s fingers teased him open John began to feel more and more eager to be on his lover’s cock. John found he really enjoyed the sensation of being penetrated, that having Sherlock’s hardness inside him amplified the pleasure he experienced. At long last Sherlock was holding himself steady as John covered him one inch at a time. “John. I…oh god I love you!”

“This feels so good love, so fucking good. I’m going to brace myself. You move.” Sherlock nodded and John leaned forward, his hands planted on the mattress and his knees spread. Sherlock thrust upward slowly and both men groaned as he sank deep over and over again, “Harder, beautiful, harder.” John’s eyes were closed now; he was too focused on the throbbing bliss he was experiencing. Sherlock pulled John down so he was lying on Sherlock’s chest, spreading his thighs wide Sherlock forced John to be as open as possible before he began to thrust fast and sure.

Sherlock had John caught tight to him. The tall man was moaning John’s name endlessly, beginning to thrust hard and fast deep into John’s small tight body. His hands were roaming, touching John everywhere before finally spreading across John’s ass and hanging on, “John, fuck you’re sexy. You feel so good. I can’t hold off my beautiful John, gorgeous John, sweet, perfect, wonderful Jawn, oh god!” Sherlock’s voice was almost a whimper now but he thrust upward with rapid-fire thrusts. 

John couldn’t talk right then. He was too busy coming. With a choked off shout John gripped himself tightly and stroked hard as Sherlock shuddered and bucked beneath him. John felt Sherlock deep inside his body, throbbing, spurting, pushing ever further inside. John’s hand worked over his own hardened flesh, milking out the last creamy droplets to rub between Sherlock’s hard belly and his own.

“That worked out better than I had hoped.” said Sherlock, his voice exhausted and satisfied sounding. John shifted gingerly and got off of Sherlock to flop down on his pillow to sweat for a minute. “I have one more surprise for tonight.”

Sherlock’s arm flopped over the side of the bed and he seemed to be digging around. Finally his arm came back up and he snugged up to John, reaching for his left hand. “John, I love my engagement ring but I feel you need one too. I had this made for you, I hope you like it.” Sherlock slid a heavy silver ring onto John’s finger while John smiled hugely. He lifted his hand immediately to look at it. There was a carving of a small key on the front and when John looked closely he could see the score marks made up the name ‘Sherlock’. 

“It’s perfect Sherlock. I’m glad you gave me this.” they kissed and held hands, cuddled together in silence for a long time.

“John I want you to meet my family. Would you?” John didn’t want to meet Sherlock’s family. He knew Mycroft and wasn’t that enough of a burden to bear? John couldn’t even imagine what it would be like being in a crowd of people that had produced individuals like Sherlock and Mycroft Holmes.

“Can we heal up after our trip first? I don’t want to go there all black and blue.” John was going to search himself for every conceivable wound and bruise. He’d delay going for as long as possible. He just needed to brace himself, become accustomed to the idea of being someone’s actual fiancé and mentally prepare himself for coming out of the closet on a country-wide scale because Sherlock was pretty famous and people would most certainly notice he’d married a man.

“That seems reasonable John, very well. As soon as you are healed we can go.” Sherlock was tired now and with a smile he snuggled even closer to John and fell asleep mere minutes before his beloved doctor.

Ten days later John was wishing for kidnappers. He wished for a serial killer of epic proportions to pop up and drag them through the filthier parts of London on a grand chase. John wished for an epidemic of some kind that would force him to remain at the hospital working round the clock to save lives. He wished he’d somehow gotten ill, not terminally ill; just sick enough so John wasn’t forced to be in the backseat of this posh car that was rolling down the road to hell.

Sherlock and Mycroft were chatting. That’s what John chose to think of it as because if he thought of it as sniping he’d snap and kill one or possibly both of them. John’s nerves were screaming, he was desperate to run, desperate to get away, if he let them wind him up any tighter someone would bleed. So he sat there instead and stared wide-eyed out the window practicing his breathing exercises while Sherlock and Mycroft battled each other using single words to denote entire arguments, jumping back and forth between philosophies and sciences with dizzying skill. John said nothing.

John had been informed that the road trip was three hours long in total. They’d been in the car for only thirty minutes and John wished he’d sat in the trunk or at the very least up in front with the ambiguous driver/bodyguard. They could have swapped war stories and John wouldn’t have felt mentally challenged. He was going into war woefully unequipped, the kinds of weaponry he needed today could not be strapped on. John had already lost and he hadn’t even gotten there yet. He went back to wishing for disasters to happen, something tragic enough to prevent him from making it all the way to Holmes Manor.

Sherlock had let John dither about healing up until there wasn’t a trace of red left and his newest scar was fully healed. They’d been on a number of minor cases to pass the time but eventually Mycroft took it out of John’s hands and arranged it. John was being taken to officially meet Mummy Holmes and the rest of the Holmes family. John didn’t normally mind meeting his partner’s family. He’d done it plenty of times in the past and always managed to charm his way into their hearts. He didn’t have a lot of former relationships that required it, a moving soldier wasn’t the best sort of boyfriend to have but Sherlock was a permanent fixture in John’s life and this was inevitable. That’s how it felt. John felt doomed. He didn’t even have Greg as backup, the DI was up to his eyes with paperwork and not even Mycroft could get him out of it.

John was going on an overnight trip to meet Sherlock’s family, a family that was so smart they had thought Sherlock was slow. Sherlock? How would John appear? How incredibly dull-witted would John be standing next to Slow Sherlock while the lightning intellect of the brilliant Holmes family sparkled around him like fireworks? By comparison John was more like a Snakes Sparkler, even at his brightest he would fizzle out miserably next to them. Sherlock even had to tag John’s pants to keep track of him!

John wished he hadn’t thought of pants. He was wearing a pair of black pants that of course matched Sherlock’s socks but Sherlock also wore black pants. They matched. Sherlock had made a show of dressing John in their matching pants; both men interested in spending their last moments together but instead Mycroft had arrived early and spoiled everything. Now John was tense, sexually frustrated and unable to shake the image of Sherlock’s pants out of his head. He was going to freak out any second now. John closed his eyes and focused on his breathing. In and out. Nice and regular. Don’t think. Breath.

Only his seatbelt kept him from climbing to the ceiling when Sherlock said, “John?” and laid his hand on John’s shoulder. Sherlock snatched his hand back and John gripped the seat and the door and tried not to have a complete and utter melt-down panic attack. “John you’ve gone green. Mycroft pull the car over.”

The driver pulled them into a treed lot and John got out. The air felt good blowing across his face and he just soaked in the background noise like it was the most peaceful silence. Sherlock got out with Mycroft and John’s fleeting peace shattered. “Are you alright John?”

“Do I bloody look alright Sherlock? No, please. Just go back inside with Mycroft and let me have a minute!” Mycroft got in eagerly; he didn’t like being outside but Sherlock lingered. “Sherlock, really, I just need a minute okay?”

“No.” Sherlock bent down and kissed John sweetly and tenderly, he dotted little kisses all over John’s face and kissed his mouth once more before planting a firm kiss between his eyes. “You are worried about meeting my family and you should not be. Even Mycroft respects you and he’s one of the worst Holmes around. You’ll be fine.”

“I’m an idiot.” John explained and raised his eyebrows, daring Sherlock to argue. Sherlock had called him an idiot a million times.

“Undoubtedly but so many people are. Come along John, we have to press on.” Sherlock made John get back in but for some reason John wasn’t as tense as he was before, maybe because Sherlock had taken John’s hand and laced their fingers together tight. Sherlock and Mycroft continued chatting while John stared out the window still saying nothing.

When Sherlock and Mycroft stopped for a smoke John was tempted to join them. Sherlock would be only too happy to bring John to the dark side and John suddenly envisioned the two of them smoking of an evening at the flat, just sitting in their chairs puffing away and reading the evening paper. Setting the image aside John just stepped out with them instead and enjoyed the breeze as best he could.

Sherlock made Mycroft go back and wait in the car so he could give John smoke flavored kisses until John was grinning foolishly and trying to pull away while Sherlock protested and continued kissing him. Now that John was cheered up he was able to spend the last part of the trip just steeling himself to remain polite when he got there. He had manners and he knew how to use them. He’d dealt with Mycroft and Sherlock both and had survived their slings and arrows for a very long time. He could do an evening of dinner and dancing with their mum.

At least he was comfortable. John had initially decided to try wearing a suit but Sherlock had surprisingly talked him out of it. “I like the way you look in your jumpers John, that’s what I want to see.” Well John didn’t argue about that and had climbed gratefully into his best jumper because he was trying to make a good impression. The cable-knit oatmeal jumper was familiar as well as warm. Mycroft and Sherlock however had on suits so expensive John had hyperventilated when Sherlock had told him the cost. Everything John owned wouldn’t add up to a single one of the suits and Sherlock had lots of them.

John wasn’t going to worry about his clothes on top of everything else. He was there to meet Sherlock’s mother, be introduced to the family and that was it. He didn’t need to impress anyone or make friends, he just needed to be seen and hopefully not heard. Exhaling carefully John calmed himself down until he was tranquil again. Sherlock was smiling at him and even Mycroft looked a little impressed. Sherlock just said, “Better?”

John nodded. He was ready for anything now. He was glad he’d had the time to collect himself because they’d arrived. John almost started to laugh, “So, did Bram Stoker ever stay here?” The house was as close to a castle as you could get. There were turrets on the side and the entire thing seemed to be made of heavy gray brick, old and dark with age. The windows were set deep inside, each panel set artfully so that the whole building had a weird sort of grace to it, strange yet enduring. It was massive too and John wondered how many people were needed to keep it going.

“It’s been in the family for generations. Everyone comes and goes as they please and only Mummy stays here full time.” So it was the Holmes’ magic kingdom. “We’ll be staying in my apartments.”

“Why do you live at Baker Street when you have an apartment in a castle?” asked John and Sherlock rolled his eyes as if he couldn’t believe John didn’t know.

“The Work John! How can I do The Work from here? The best cases are in London so that’s where I must be. Mrs. Hudson is a very agreeable landlady and things have worked out rather well for me there. None of that would have happened if I’d stayed here.” Well, all of that was true enough.

Mycroft smirked when Sherlock mentioned his obsession. “This will be most interesting.” and that’s all he would say. John had no time to ask him what he meant because they were now getting out. Sherlock stood and adjusted John’s collar for him, a fond smile on his face. Taking his hand Sherlock just led John inside without another word.

The place was as vast as its exterior suggested. The entrance was a small hall with a stone loft that ran around the edges. “This started out as a keep, a prison of sorts. The Holmes’ have been part of the justice in this region for many generations. Eventually the keep evolved into the family home. If you look at the front of the house carefully you can see where they bricked in the drawbridge. The moat has long since been filled in but the outside walls are the same.” Well that explained the rest of the décor. The manor was filled with suits of armor and displays of ancient weapons of every description.

So. Generations of brilliant crime fighters who owned their own dungeon. That. Was. Fantastic. John was going to pass out from the amount of anxiety that ripped through him once again. How would he ever impress these people and not seem like a fool? He could not do this. This family was killing him and he hadn’t even met them yet. Sherlock stopped and looked down at John, “You are being incredibly silly. Pull yourself together John. Mummy is right over there.” Soldier John took over. He was calm, steady and prepared. Turning sharply on his heel he followed Sherlock closely. It was time to meet his mum.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Holmes...I wonder what they'll be like?


	15. Impressions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John has worked himself into a tizzy because he's about to meet Sherlock's family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote and re-wrote this chapter FOUR different ways. This was the one I chose.

John felt frumpy. There was no other word to describe it. He was wearing his favorite jumper, his nicest shirt, the one that brought out the blue in John’s eyes and he was wearing his best trousers. His shoes had been polished to a high shine and his hair was neatly cut, in all possible manner John was as well presented as he could manage.

In a way he was glad he hadn’t worn a suit. He would have been even more grotesquely out of place, if that was even possible. John’s suits were nice but off-the-rack, unlike everyone else present; there wasn’t a stitch around that wasn’t hand done by the finest craftsmen. Mycroft and Sherlock blended in with the crowd around them like a collection of the rarest hothouse flowers while John stood there as common as a daisy.

Everyone was tall and lean, pale and mysterious. John was still short, blond with heavy gray crowding the color out. The Holmes family seemed to possess the fountain of youth for everyone reminded John of Sherlock, almost child-like with their smooth expressionless faces and patrician attitudes. John was keenly aware of the wrinkles on his face. He had many now and he’d never really thought about them until this moment. John drew a deep breath and faced everyone with a straight spine and a steady eye.

They were approached by a tall stately woman that John instantly recognized as being Sherlock’s mother. She could be no one else. Her eyes were his eyes. The silver curls pinned neatly to her head adorned Sherlock’s head as well. Though she far outstripped John hair for hair with gray, the streaks of black made for an elegant contrast. John saw those exquisite cheekbones, soften in a woman’s face but still beautiful. Her eyes, those remarkable jewels, were lined with wisdom and she seemed to stare right through John and into his soul. Sherlock stepped forward and kissed her cheek, “Mummy this is my fiancé Doctor John Watson, John, please allow me to introduce you to my mother Victoria St Claire Holmes.”

“Doctor Watson, I’m pleased to finally make your acquaintance.” her voice was mellifluous and enchanting. John felt more and more inadequate by the second. “I’m grateful to finally meet someone who is willing to put up with my impossible son! I thought it would never happen.”

John was pleasantly surprised. “Well, it was a long time coming but I’m glad to say we’ve figured things out somewhat.”

“You’ve arrived just in time for dinner. Please, call me Victoria.” John smiled and offered her his arm. The rest of the family fell in behind Sherlock and Mycroft who walked in side by side behind John who seated their mother at the head of the table. Sherlock pulled a chair out for John with a wink and grinned cheekily at his doctor. John was still nervous but Victoria hadn’t been so bad and the rest of the family didn’t need to be impressed.

The meal began quietly, a large out-pouring of servers coming in to cover the table with their first course. Victoria was charming, asking John about his current medical career and eventually about The Work John did with Sherlock. One of the cousins, Balthazar he named himself asked with a laugh, “We have of course reviewed your blog. It’s most entertaining. Tell me John, do you always overplay your role when you write up your stories?”

“I don’t understand.” John barely mentioned himself in his blogs. He focused on Sherlock and the astounding trail of deductions he made when he solved a case. That’s what readers enjoyed, not hearing about the huffing and puffing of an old soldier on the chase.

“Well there’s all that business about shooting and stabbings. Surely that’s unnecessarily dramatic. I mean the explosive vest? Really doctor, you should stick to the facts. These embellishments are unnecessary.” Balthazar was exchanging small laughs with another cousin. John stared at him, unsure what to say.

“That vest wasn’t a joke. There was enough Semtex on it to take out the entire building.” that night was one of the worst nights. John still hated to recall the look of betrayal on Sherlock’s face for the moment he thought John had tricked him. Why would they think he could joke about something like that?

Sherlock was looking grimly at Balthazar and whoever was sitting next to him, “John is incredibly modest. He would never crudely put himself forward.”

“Oh please Sherlock. You are the most dramatic liar in the whole family. You can’t tell us that this fellow’s blog is any indication of his merit?” oh they could not have said a worse thing to Sherlock.

“John Watson is one of the bravest and most stoic men I have ever known. I will accept a degree of incredulity since you have only just met him but never imply that John is anything but amazing! John, what was the last injury you had?”

Sherlock knew damn well! Why was he making John tell them? It had only hurt for a day, maybe two. Hardly worth mentioning even though John had dragged out the need to heal it thoroughly for ages. He heaved a sigh and just said, “Bullet wound, upper arm.”

“And before that John?” Sherlock was smiling over at John but John shook his head. He wasn’t going to list all his injuries in chronological order! It would take all night. Sherlock took his hand. “John Watson is brave and undemanding. He does not care for the spotlight and nearly always refrains from mentioning his many acts of heroism. John has saved me dozens of times in all kinds of situations. He has been shot, stabbed, hung, hit by a car, almost drowned, blown up, poisoned and kidnapped so often we’ve almost lost track. He never makes a fuss about it unless he’s got a cold, most of the time we don’t even go to the hospital. John taught me how to do stitches so I sew him up from time to time and when I need it, he stitches me up as well. Our work is very dangerous.”

“Certainly you exaggerate!” The unnamed cousin was dubious. When John looked around he saw the doubt on everyone’s face but Mycroft and Victoria.

Mycroft sighed softly the way he did, “Carlton if you had to spend as much time as I do signing Sherlock in and out of surgery you would not be so disbelieving. What was that you were stabbed with last John? A crochet hook?”

“Knitting needles.” said John. That got some surprised glances. “Well it wasn’t as bad as that restaurant spatula. That had a serrated edge!”

“What about when you were stabbed with a book? We didn’t even know you could do something like that but the scar turned out interesting.” Sherlock was rather fond of John’s various scars. That book had been a hard-cover easy reader that the owner had laminated, giving the edges sharp corners. Now John had two long triangles on his ribs.

“I’d forgotten about the book! What about the time….” and John and Sherlock laughed their way through a series of injuries of humorous origin, both having been hurt by a startlingly creative array of items. There was complete silence at the table by the time the remembered they weren’t alone. Victoria was smiling into her teacup as Sherlock’s family just looked at them. The laughter they shared was clearly as shocking as the stories themselves.

“Unbelievable.” exclaimed another cousin. “What kind of doctor are you?”

“I was a surgeon in the army until I was shot and invalided out.” John hoped they didn’t ask about the army.

“You? In the army? Aren’t you a bit small?” John set his jaw and reminded himself that he was going to be polite this evening.

“John was a captain and was cited for bravery under fire numerous times. His medical AND military careers are illustrious. It’s unfortunate for his patients that our work takes him away so much.” Sherlock was staring almost balefully down the table at whoever had asked the question.

“John Watson seems like a fine addition to the family. He will add some heartiness to the admittedly weedy selection of people we currently have representing us.” Victoria eyed the cousins meaningfully. All of them were pale from never seeking the sun, thin but soft from never exercising and all of them were as unmarked as blank canvases. Since there was nothing anyone could say now about John’s comparative quality they turned and chatted amongst themselves, leaving Sherlock and John undisturbed and essentially ignored.

“See John, fun, just like I promised.” said Sherlock with a small smile. John had to smile back. Sherlock was smug and happy. The tall man had surprised his cousins and John had impressed them against their will with his bravery and hardiness. 

Dinner concluded quietly and then everyone gathered for the dancing portion of the evening. Sherlock was edgy, having rather a reputation as being awful. Several of the cousins were already smirking his way as they collected in couples on the dance floor. John just poked him with a finger, “We got into the club with our skills and there were some pretty incredible dancers there. I figure we’ll do well enough in front of your family.”

John was confident in Sherlock’s abilities. Mycroft took his mother’s arm and led her to the center of the floor where a small space cleared. As the music began they danced smoothly together. When the first round was done John took Sherlock firmly in hand and began to dance with him. John made sure to keep Sherlock’s gaze on him so the detective wasn’t distracted by the frankly astonished stares from everyone around them. John grinned cheekily and winked at Sherlock, “See love, nothing to worry about.”

Sherlock blushed the tiniest amount, pleased and happy. John was holding Sherlock firmly, demanding his acquiescence and Sherlock gladly gave it. In this as in so many areas John was now in charge. The evening was fun then. John was passed around like a party favor, one female cousin after another asking for a dance while Sherlock was also forced to dance with family members, especially his proud mother who was so very impressed with Sherlock’s new skills. John was genially quizzed about science facts and surprised himself when he discovered he could name Pi to five places (mathematician murder), the tensile strength of spider silk (base-jumping art thieves) and had an uncomfortably on-demand amount of information on natural toxins (too many cases to count).

John was dancing with Victoria, both of them laughing over a small anecdote John was telling her about Sherlock and actual bees when he saw it go down. Sherlock had been dancing with a gangly cousin of barely seventeen but now he was in the arms of someone who was literally tall, dark and handsome. John opened his mouth to ask Victoria who it was when the man stooped a little and pressed a kiss to Sherlock’s lips. John stopped moving just as Victoria gasped, “Oh dear!”

“Who. Is. That?” choked John. He had to keep himself from crushing her fingers. He had to breathe. He had to clear his head and not explode into a jealous rage. John couldn’t see them anymore, the tall cousins blocking his view of Sherlock’s last location.

“Victor Trevor, Sherlock went to uni with him. His family lives not far from here.” John lost it. His brain went poof and all he saw was red. An old lover! An old lover was kissing HIS Sherlock not twenty feet away from John? John heard Victoria distantly and she let loose his hand, “Go John, before you rupture something.”

Once again John found himself shouldering past anyone who was in his way. He still couldn’t think. Someone was touching Sherlock and John was going to HURT them! The doctor’s trajectory made him come up nearly right behind the man who had a deep sexy voice, teasing and filled with affection, “No? Come on then, one spin around the room Sherl! I saw you dancing. Incredible! London has been good for you.” John looked right up at Sherlock who looked relieved that John had arrived.

Sherlock’s arm reached out for John and Victor Trevor misunderstood. He stepped into Sherlock’s arms and kissed him a second time. Sherlock shoved him away, “I said NO Victor. John. John, don’t do anything rash!”

John’s eyebrows shot up, “Rash? Why would I do anything rash Sherlock? I was just dancing with your mum and thought, hey, I’ll just abandon her in the middle of everything so I can come hang around with my best friend and his boyfriend.” Sherlock looked annoyed and that for some reason made John feel angrier. Victor wasn’t following at all and looked down at John with a friendly smile.

“Hey, I’m Victor. I was just going to ask Sherlock out for drinks. Grab someone and come with if you want, I’d like to catch up a bit. We had a lot of fun in uni, right Sherl?” John blinked and just exhaled slowly. The man had no idea. It wasn’t on purpose it was just one of those awkward things that happened sometimes. John breathed in; his gaze fixed to Victor’s now confused face. Sherlock cautiously reached out and John took his lover’s hand firmly. This was HIS man and not anyone else! John would NOT punch Victor the way he wanted to because the man had been unaware. Now he was aware. Victor’s face cleared instantly and he looked entirely embarrassed. “I’m an asshole. I’m sorry, John, was it? Listen, I’m a rude ass and didn’t even think that Sherl, um, Sherlock would be with someone. I apologize for….well kissing him and everything. Totally not right. Sorry.”

“Victor Trevor, allow me to introduce my fiancé, Doctor John Watson. John, this is Victor. He was part of my data set.” John didn’t miss the embarrassed groan that chased the disgruntled frown that followed the word ‘fiancé’ Victor tried to repress and suddenly John felt better. This man had wanted Sherlock again but it was never going to happen. Victor was envious of John! Still, he had crossed a pretty huge line and John wasn’t entirely happy about that.

“Mr. Trevor. You’ll have to excuse me. It was pleasant meeting you, Sherlock?” John looked sternly at Sherlock and Sherlock nodded slowly.

“Come with me John.” he said softly. John took Sherlock’s hand even more firmly in his and allowed Sherlock to lead him away from Victor Trevor, all the cousins and into the maze of hallways until they reached a door. Sherlock simply pulled John through it and then they were in Sherlock’s old bedroom. It was essentially a library with a large bed in it, posters of the periodic table and other informative charts decorating the wall. Sherlock took John’s hands anxiously, “I had no idea Victor would be here, I haven’t seen or spoken to him since I was at uni last. I certainly did not invite his advances and I said no, which technically makes his kisses assault.”

John just kissed Sherlock hard, all his possessive jealousy bubbling and spilling over. He kissed Sherlock until the detective could barely stand and was hanging limply onto John’s shoulders. Only then did John pull back and smile at his lover, “We can go back to dancing now.”

“Alright John.” said Sherlock softly. His lips were reddened and swollen but his eyes were bright and shining, just the way John loved them to be. John’s jealousy was entirely gone, his lover reclaimed and his territory clearly marked. John was prepared to spend the rest of the evening being intellectually overwhelmed by the Holmes family. John had a plan on how to relieve all his stresses later on.

On the walk back John thought of something, “He knew you’d be here. He was expecting to see you. I don’t think those kisses were accidental. Victor Trevor wants something.”

Sherlock looked thoughtfully down at John. “Well he was certainly surprised to meet you though he must have heard about you John. The only way to know about what I’m doing is through your blog.” Well this wouldn’t be the first time having a blog about the man he loved and admired had bitten John in the butt. “I suppose though that we haven’t exactly publically announced anything. Would you like that John?”

“Oh god no! Please no! Our lives are in the public enough, thank you! The few people we are close to can know and after that I don’t really care what anyone thinks. I can deal with Victor Trevor. If he tries to touch you again though, well, I make no promises.” John would break Victor Trevor’s arm unless he had a very good reason for making any sort of physical contact with Sherlock or even looked at him too long! “Find out what it is before he decides on more dramatic gestures. Please.”

Sherlock swept back to the ballroom with John firmly on his arm. The music was still playing and most of the family was dancing with a variety of guests. Sherlock glanced around and found Victor chatting with Mycroft. John was instantly suspicious and Sherlock didn’t look impressed. Both of them strode toward the pair. Mycroft turned, “John. Victor has something he’d like to ask.”

Victor led them to a corner of the hall, his back to all the dancers. John stood with Sherlock’s hand firmly in his and listened, “I was hoping to see you Sherlock, Mycroft too. I need your help with some business contacts in London. I need to have a meeting with several different individuals at the same time and they can’t know who the other people are. You’re the only person I really know in the city, I figure you and your brother could help me set something discrete up. This isn’t your thing, I understand, but I can pay for your time and maybe kick some business your way in the future?”

John looked up at Sherlock. They’d never facilitated anything before but Sherlock looked amused. He said one word to John and it made him laugh, “Kirk.”

John smiled over to Victor, “We know a place where everyone can meet face to face and be completely anonymous. We can arrange for a private corner for you to meet in. Leave your number with Sherlock; we’ll contact you when we’ve approached our associate.” Victor seemed a little surprised with John doing the speaking but Sherlock simply programmed in Victor’s number without comment.

“Listen, it wasn’t just to find a dark spot to meet, okay? There’s something weird going on with my work contacts, that’s why we’ve all decided to meet in person, so we can sort it out face to face. Sherlock, can you do that thing you do on my associates? Someone is screwing the group over. We have a lucrative collective of businesses and there’s no reason but greed to ruin it. If we have a bad apple I need to get rid of them. Can you help?” Victor was looking right at Sherlock, his eyes pleading.

“If we don’t have a case that night John and I will consider it but otherwise we’re leaving you with our associate.” Sherlock wasn’t really interested. This wasn’t even a two! The only entertaining part would be seeing, or rather NOT seeing, the reactions when the location was provided along with whatever Kirk found for them to wear. BDSM flavored business meeting! John laughed to himself; they could be at the start of a whole new trend in the business world.

Much cheered John took Sherlock away and danced the rest of the night with only him. Sherlock was happy and proud to be put on display in front of his family. John trotted out all their best moves and when they were done showing off John took Sherlock back to his apartments and danced some more.

Sherlock’s old bed was big as promised, the pillows soft and the sheets crisp and clean. John helped his lover peel out of his clothes quickly. Today had been long, full of stresses that John had not wanted to deal with and even though everything ended alright it was still a lot of pressure he needed to get rid of. Victor had remained politely friendly, keeping his distance from Sherlock and speaking to John as equals so John couldn’t exactly hate the man but still…he’d kissed Sherlock. John had spent the evening socializing with a man who knew his lover intimately and soon they’d be spending time with the man because of work. That was an issue for John.

John needed to claim Sherlock all over. He wasn’t thinking about it. It was something he needed to do so he did it. John took Sherlock apart one piece at a time, biting and kissing his way over Sherlock until there was not one patch of flesh left on him that wasn’t red and in a few locations, lightly bruising. John was ruthless and demanding. He brought Sherlock to the brink more than once and it wasn’t until his lover’s cries grew desperate that John finally took complete possession of Sherlock.

John was in no hurry. This wasn’t some hard fast session, over quickly and leaving his lover satisfied but almost destroyed. No, John didn’t want to hurt Sherlock but he was definitely interested in replacing each and every sexual memory of old lovers with an even better one with John. He had a bit of catching up to do but John Watson never backed down from a challenge.

John was in a groove now, he’d found his rhythm and he could go as long as he wished, for as long as Sherlock could bear it. Sherlock could barely speak, had long since been reduced to moans and shuddering gasps for air. John watched his face, concentrating as best he could though the tense pool of pleasure coiled deep in his belly threaten to spill over, Sherlock was close to his limit now. He was beautiful like this, the rictus of pleasure distorting his perfection and made him indescribably beautiful to John who knew Sherlock was on the bitter edge now and could take no more.

John gave in and drove inward in a burst of quick hard thrusts. Sherlock gasped deeply as he began to orgasm, his cock trapped between their sliding bellies and his hands now gripping John’s ribs tight as the soldier began to buck and groan along with the slender man beneath him. Sherlock’s whole body shook as if in a seizure, his head flung back and his cries were choked and jagged. John pressed his body down tight to Sherlock’s as the man’s arms and legs flailed a bit. Sherlock had never had an orgasm so intense and even John thought he himself would pass out from the intensity of the pleasure he was experiencing. It was close. For a moment John’s vision blurred and all he could do was keep his hips moving mindlessly as he crested with Sherlock. Kissing his lover John breathed him in and closed his eyes for just a moment to recover.

When he could think clearly again John found he was lying limply on top of Sherlock and some time had passed. Both of them were chilled, still on top of the blankets and Sherlock seemed to be snoring. John debated about cleaning them both up and then decided he would never be able to sleep comfortably unless he did so. Weakly he climbed out of bed and felt around in the dark until he found Sherlock’s en suite bathroom. Ablutions dealt with John carefully cleaned up the now loudly snoring Sherlock and checked him over. His lover would wake with one or two dark marks on his torso but everything else would fade by morning. Yawning John just climbed back in, tucked them both up and fell happily asleep spooned up behind Sherlock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> back to the club we go and we're bringing one of Sherlock's exes with us. Woohoo!


	16. Hosts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So John survived meeting Mummy and it was nowhere near as bad as he thought it would be. Whew.

The visit with Mummy Holmes had ended early the next morning because Mycroft had to get back to work. They were woken at the daybreak for a quick breakfast with Victoria and then they were on the road with an invitation to visit informally sometime soon. John wasn’t very excited about needing to see Sherlock’s endless supply of cousins again but he was getting along with Victoria very well so he agreed to not wait too long. John elected to sleep the whole way home. He was tired. He wanted to take Sherlock to bed, make love till they passed out and sleep until John needed to go back to the clinic. Instead Victor had shown up on Baker Street later that afternoon, apparently taking it as read that Sherlock would put him up while they worked on the arrangements. John was too polite to say no so they offered Victor John’s old room. 

There was nothing at all wrong about having a friend stay over. It was normally a lot of fun to sit up late and share a bottle of wine or a few pints with an old mate and laugh about shared memories. This was nothing like that. Victor Trevor sat on Sherlock’s chair like he belonged there while Sherlock and John sat on the sofa, John carefully stationed in the middle trying not to glower.

Sherlock grilled Victor about his associates, gleaning what clues he could about Victor’s problems. The various individuals would be traveling in from all over Europe, their hotels chosen with care to keep them from one another and every detail of their visit scrutinized by Sherlock to ensure that no one had more than the most minimum chance of encountering another member of the group anywhere except the meeting. It took a lot of coordinating but Sherlock’s knowledge of London was unmatched and he knew all the best places so John was forced to let him work closely with Victor.

John still had to work so for two anxious evenings John left Sherlock and Victor alone together. Leaving the flat the first time had been one of the hardest things John had ever had to do. Sherlock was good about it. The detective texted John non-stop with complaints about Victor’s need for conversation, explanations and food, it really annoyed the genius and he spent all his time trying to convince John to either come home early or take Victor with him when he left next. John was very reassured by the endless whinging.

Tuesday evening John got back to Baker Street just in time to hear Sherlock and Victor shouting at one another. Racing up the stairs he threw the door open and saw Victor standing there with Sherlock’s collar in his hand. Victor turned to John and snarled, “You! What kind of fucked up situation is this? Sherl? You don’t have to stay here. I can get you someplace safe, we can call your brother right now if you want. Stay back Watson!”

John just gaped at Victor. Did the man seriously think that John was abusing Sherlock? That was incredible! Sherlock tried to get his collar back but Victor was holding it above his head, the few inches he had on Sherlock keeping it out of range. John stood there and stared silently for a moment, “Sherlock, how did he find your collar?”

“This idiot decided to go into OUR room without asking! He hasn’t exactly been forthcoming about WHY! John? Maybe you can talk to him because he’s clearly too much of an idiot for me to communicate with.” Sherlock wrenched Victor’s arm down and wrestled his collar out of his resistant hand. As soon as Sherlock got it he scampered across the living-room and stood right behind John, peering over his head. Victor looked horrified.

“You collar him! What kind of fucking monster are you? Why? Why would you do that?” Victor was pale and upset looking but John was standing there almost shaking with rage. Victor had violated the sanctity of their room and had touched Sherlock’s collar. No one but John and Sherlock had ever touched it and John was amazed at how incredibly angry he was that someone else had handled it. It felt defiled. John dropped it on the floor as if it were diseased. 

John heard Sherlock’s distressed intake of air as it hit the carpet. Suddenly Sherlock’s hand was gripping John’s shoulder tight; the man was shaking. John realized he had made Sherlock think John was mad enough to end things so John immediately covered Sherlock’s hand with his. “It’s all okay love, I’m not angry with you. Just…throw it away. We can’t use it anymore.” John had no idea he was even like this. That collar was an intimate part of their relationship, it signified so much between them. Having another person’s hands on it couldn’t be fixed. They’d have to get a new one. John knew it was irrational but Sherlock picked the collar up between his thumb and forefinger and dropped it into the bin in the kitchen as if he also felt it had been soiled.

Sherlock came back and resumed shouting at their guest, “Victor let me make this clear to you. John and I are doing YOU a favor. I don’t want to do this favor but you asked and we agreed. At no point did you say you needed to like or even approve of the decisions we made. You had a problem; we are providing you with a solution. If you don’t like our solution you can find another pair of Consulting Detectives and get THEM to help you.”

“What the fuck Sherlock! How does this explain you being collared like an animal? Sherlock, you’re not this person. You’re strong and smart, you don’t need this. Come with me, I can promise to take you where he can’t find you!” John was going to lose it. If this man implied one more time that John was abusing Sherlock John would kick Victor’s ass! The man kept trying to talk Sherlock into leaving. Someone was trying to take Sherlock from John and John wanted to kill Victor where he stood.

Sherlock saved their guest’s life. “Victor Trevor you are an even bigger imbecile that I took you for! John and I are in a loving and stable relationship, one where we enjoy many things, some of which is our Dominant/submissive lifestyle. In case you do not understand, John is the Dom and I am the sub. That collar which you had no right touching was special to us. The associate we have approached on your behalf owns a BDSM club. We can assure you absolute privacy and discretion. Now, explain to both of us why you felt alright entering our private room?”

“For your information I did ask you if it was okay to browse around! I was bored. I can’t be seen around London until after the meeting and Sherlock won’t talk to me John! He was doing that mind palace thing. I’ve read all the books in the bedroom upstairs before and I know Sherlock has his own library, he always does! I was just grabbing a book and that fucking THING was on the dresser!” okay John really was going to kick that judgemental asshole right in the balls if he didn’t knock it off!

“Victor, all you are doing is proving you are an even greater idiot than I originally thought! You have officially been downgraded to the Anderson level of my intelligence chart and that’s as low as you can go. John, we’re not helping him. Victor, go away.” Sherlock was as aggravated as John and that actually cooled John down. Sherlock was about to have a massive fit, most likely resulting in damage to Mrs. Hudson’s building so John pulled himself together and took charge.

“Victor Trevor. Whatever idea you have in your mind about me doing anything to Sherlock that causes him harm, humiliation or pain you can put right out of your head this instant! I have nearly died for this man and I have killed for this man. I would never do anything to distress him if I can help it.” John really didn’t know how to articulate the life he and Sherlock were building together.

Sherlock did, “It’s about control, you cretin. I have none and John has plenty. We balance each other out, we were partners’ first, best friends next and lovers last. John Watson understands me better than any living person; he gives me what I need and leaves me to be who I am. I don’t know who you think that is but I am not a delicate flower that can’t take care of himself! If John were doing anything to me that I did not wish then you can trust that it would not continue. The details of our relationship are none of your business. Tomorrow night you and your associates will be accompanying us to the club in appropriate gear and have your meeting. Once it concludes I expect you to listen to what I tell you, pay us for helping you and then I expect you to leave, hopefully forever. John has kindly allowed you to stay though it makes him uncomfortable and you have offended us both in return!”

Once again Victor Trevor was red with embarrassment. He looked at Sherlock and there was a flicker of helpless longing and regret. John saw red all over again! This man wanted to be with Sherlock! “I didn’t understand. I apologize. John. I am very sorry for inferring…”

John was too angry to listen to whatever Victor Trevor had to say. He stalked away and went to the bedroom, shutting the door and just sitting on the edge of the bed, trying to keep himself from going out front and laying Victor out! Trevor could never have Sherlock no matter what he thought of their relationship. John would NEVER hurt Sherlock. Even their love-play was never hurtful except when they were overenthusiastic. John understood there were levels of pain and pleasure that were enjoyable to some, he and Sherlock would most likely experiment with one another as they explored one facet after the next of the life they had chosen. For now though, here in the early stages of their life together they had not been in a rush. Sex between them was beautiful and loving, sometimes a bit rough or intense but John had never laid a deliberately hurtful hand on Sherlock once! They had enough pain in their life without adding more during intercourse.

The bedroom door slammed open. “John, we’re going shopping. Get your coat.” John nearly bounced off the bed, startled with Sherlock flinging the door wide and even more startled to see Sherlock was already in his Belstaff and was shoving his feet into a different pair of shoes. The detective was wearing black and white striped socks and John suddenly felt better when he recalled he was wearing the matching pants. Their little game continued and John had grown to love it.

“Where are we going at this time of night?” most of the shops would have been closed for ages. Sherlock held out his mobile and John read the description of the store they were going to. They would definitely be open late. “I’ll grab my wallet. Are we bringing Victor?”

“Yes, abominable as that is. We obviously can’t trust him alone in the flat. He can wear one of the hoodies I use when I visit the Homeless network. I’ll see if I have an especially rank one for him to try.” Sherlock’s pettiness made John laugh. They found a hoodie but John made sure it was clean. Taking a taxi they soon found themselves at a store that was London’s version of Mystique. It was called Second Skin.

Victor was appalled at the gear being displayed but Sherlock made a beeline for the bodysuits and was soon digging through them, looking for the perfect outfit for the next night. John opted to not mention to Victor that it was Whips Wednesday. Let that be a nice surprise for the man who was on John’s last nerve already. The doctor planned on wearing what he wore last week but Sherlock wanted a new collar and couldn’t resist looking at the rest of the selection. John decided to spoil his lover and found an especially dangerous looking collar, purchasing it quickly before the detective came back. He’d let Sherlock choose an ordinary one and surprise him with the fancy one later.

Sherlock came back with two outfits, one for himself that John rather liked and another one for John who thought he had plenty. He was about to protest when Sherlock softly said, “Please darling?” John knew he’d never be able to resist when Sherlock used a pet name on him. It was so unlike the detective that John didn’t even protest, he just sent Sherlock back to find a collar for himself while Victor wandered around in a state of open-mouthed shock.

Victor was standing in front of a display of nipple rings. Some were fairly innocuous and mostly decorative. Others looked like they’d been inspired by the Spanish Inquisition and it was those that Victor fixated on. He was pale and even more horrified than before. He looked down at John, a sick expression on his face. “Do you….” he couldn’t even ask.

“No, nothing even slightly like that happens with us, at least not yet. This life is highly subjective. There are all kinds of fetishes and all sorts of arrangements made between partners to serve their needs and that’s what it boils down to, making each other happy. My only goal in this life is to make Sherlock as happy as possible and to make sure he feels loved every minute of the day. I don’t know what it was like between the two of you but you seem to want to think the worst of me. Before you judge us again you should at least spend a bit of time learning a bit. Tomorrow night you’re going to be dressing up and joining us.” John was a fair man and felt that he needed to give Victor more of a chance than Victor had given John.

“He never liked sex. We went out with all kinds of people and each other for almost two years. He was good at it but Sherlock did not like sex and he never agreed to date. Why you John?” Victor sounded almost upset and John suddenly realized he was feeling inadequate because he had wanted Sherlock and Sherlock did not want him back, Sherlock was involved with another man who was providing the difficult genius with a physical relationship Victor would never get to enjoy ever again and doing it so well that Sherlock was literally and figuratively on his knees for John.

“I don’t know Victor. He’s mine though, don’t ever forget that. I’m his too, don’t forget that either.” this man had no idea did he, no idea at all of how devoted John was to Sherlock, how the last few years had changed the doctor into a being whose sole purpose in life was to take care of Sherlock physically as well as emotionally. John needed it as much as Sherlock did. Speaking of the man he loved, Sherlock was waving John over. He was frowning and holding a hanger.

“Enjoying your little chat with Victor?” snarled Sherlock. He was glaring at his ex-lover with murderous intent.

“He was basically telling me he’s dying of jealousy because of us and he still wants you.” said John bluntly and the angry glare dropped off of Sherlock’s face. “You never have to worry about me Sherlock. No one could ever catch my attention, not even for a moment. You’re the only one who interests me. Now, what did you find?”

Sherlock still needed reassurance so John stepped in close and gave Sherlock a deep loving kiss, gripping his ass tightly with both hands beneath Sherlock’s huge coat. John didn’t stop until Sherlock was flushed and grinning stupidly. “I’d rather have this one John, if you’ll let me.”

The ensemble was a long pair of leather pants that were mostly seams. There were huge cut-outs along the legs but the ass portion was enticing. It would cup and spread Sherlock a tiny bit but keep him entirely covered. There was a codpiece that went with it, just a simple black piece of stiff leather but when on it provided a locking buckle that John could attach his tether to. He liked it. After approving the pants Sherlock showed him a selection of leather bands that made a top. John couldn’t quite make out how it would look when worn but it left Sherlock’s neck bare and John could see the top would go very well with the savage collar he now had hidden in his coat pocket. John agreed.

Sherlock then showed John an outfit he’d decided on for the doctor. John tried to find something objectionable about it but everything he didn’t like had been taken into account and it really was rather perfect. “Hoods as well, we’re supposed to be anonymous in front of Victor’s business associates and we left our other ones overseas.”

John didn’t mention where they had been and he didn’t have to. As soon as he said the word ‘overseas’ both men grew tense. They didn’t talk about France, ever. Never once since their return had they brought it up. It was something unpleasant that they’d had to do and it was done. Someday they’d work their way into John’s nightmares just like everything else but for now they were together, safe and trying to live their lives. John saw a small tremble in Sherlock’s hands; he understood that Sherlock still felt a bit raw about Mary. John had after all decided to propose to the woman and even though it had not been real for Mary it had been real for John. Sherlock was having a hard time moving past John being in love with someone else enough to want to wed, even if Sherlock was the one with the ring now and Mary was probably rotting in an unmarked grave. John stepped up behind the detective and put his arms around Sherlock’s waist to smile up at him, “I like seeing your face though John. It’s a handsome one.”

“I like seeing your face too, it’s beautiful but we’re being paid to be anonymous so anonymous we will be. If you really want to we can go back to the club on our own just for fun.” Sherlock was really enjoying all the leather and John had to admit he didn’t exactly hate it. They were falling into a new world as easily as they had fallen into each others. Sherlock smiled down at John, his eyes bright and happy once more. “Don’t forget to find a new collar. Once we get the hoods we can go. Kirk is sending Victor’s outfit tomorrow, he’s got some sort of theme worked out. I told him it wasn’t necessary but it’s Kirk. I think he’s coordinated everyone.”

Sherlock laughed and went to select two hoods and a collar. He came back with one that looked very similar to the original but minus the heavy ring for the tether. “Sentimental I know but that artist only makes one-of-a-kinds and this was the closest I could find. Is it alright John?”

“Of course it is love, let’s go.” John paid for everything and took Sherlock’s hand, a silent Victor Trevor trailing behind them, his head still deep inside his hood. Checking the streets up and down Sherlock and John also peered at the driver before getting in. John and Sherlock weren’t cavalier about being anywhere outside 221 B together. When they got back to the flat Victor noted it, “You both move like soldiers. I felt like I was in one of those spy movies and we were just getting a taxi.”

“We live dangerous lives Victor. After tomorrow you’ll be back in your safe little world but we will still be in ours. John is a soldier and he keeps me alive and I watch his back. Remember the bit where I said we were partners? We’ve been working the most horrible cases in London for years now Victor, what do you think that entails? We don’t have anyone but each other to rely on, we trust one another; we understand each others strengths and limitations.” John left them in the living room and made tea. He needed a cup before he could go to bed. John found a packet of biscuits as well and set them out on a plate. Once everything was ready he assembled it all on a tray and brought it out.

Victor blinked when he looked at the offering. John had used their least chipped mugs and their nicest plate, arranging the biscuits attractively. He already had Sherlock’s tea ready just the way he liked it and had left Victor’s alone to prepare himself which is what Victor preferred. John was a good host. “You’re a soldier, a doctor, a detective and you serve tea.”

“Don’t forget the biscuits. John always buys only my favorites. He also makes the best tea in England.” Sherlock took a biscuit and his tea, settling himself on the sofa next to John. John was aware that he was being intently watched by Victor Trevor. When their tea was done they bade Victor a good night and took themselves off to bed. It was early in the morning now but they’d sleep in and be ready for the club tomorrow night. After they’d washed up and brushed their teeth Sherlock took John firmly by the hand and led him to bed. “We’re having sex.” he announced.

They hadn’t since they’d gotten back. John was uncomfortable with Victor only a few stairs and two thin walls away. John began to protest, “Victor is just….”

“Victor Trevor is developing an unhealthy amount of interest in you John and I don’t like it one bit. We are going to have sex and I don’t care if he hears, in fact I hope he DOES hear because then he will know that you are mine and I am yours and that he has no chance in hell with either of us.” So Sherlock was jealous. He made John undress quickly, pushing John back onto the pillows and straddling his hips.

John rather enjoyed it. Sherlock was demanding and hungry for touches. He kissed John over and over again until both men were hard and aching. John liked the way Sherlock’s face looked as he glared and groaned at the same time, his hips rocking over John as his long fingers wrapped around them both. John liked that a lot too. Sherlock was passionate, rough and becoming lost in the pleasure of it all, his jealous anger bleeding away until there were just soft gasps and moans left.

John pulled Sherlock down close to kiss him, “I love you Sherlock, I would never want to hurt you.”

“I love you John, I’d never want to hurt you either. I don’t deserve you. I worry….” John kissed Sherlock until an impassioned smiled wreathed the detectives’ lush mouth. Their bodies were still thrusting and moving sensuously against each other.

“You’re the most perfect man in the world for me Sherlock. Everything about you is perfect for me, especially the insane parts. I could never want anyone but you. I’ll never leave you and I’ll never be unfaithful. I hope you want that.” Sherlock was having a hard time speaking and little sparks were going off in John’s head now.

“You are the perfect one John. Oh!” Sherlock’s hips were beginning to jerk and he was panting loudly, “I want you with me forever John, only you. Oh fucking Christ I’m coming!” His groan was loud as always, even with his mouth crushed against John’s. John couldn’t speak because his whole body had just burst into flame as he chased Sherlock’s orgasm with one of his own. Both men called out their release, kissing and clutching at one another as their seed spilled together onto John’s softly rounded belly.

They lay there for a long time, panting and sticky. Suddenly John’s shoulders shook and Sherlock’s did too. They began to laugh softly and then not so softly, “Poor Victor. How awkward for him. I hope he made it to his room without too much emotional trauma.” Sherlock kissed John with a smirk after that, “John, I’m hungry.”

Exhausted and wobbly they got out of bed and cleaned up. They giggled their way to the kitchen and sniggered their way through sandwiches and more tea. They poked fun at one another, teasing each other the way they always did. By then it was late in the night and John was beat. Nearly staggering they cleaned up once more and went to bed. Tomorrow they’d be going to the club and who knew what would happen once Sherlock saw Victor’s work associates. John made a note to make himself a big hot breakfast and fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the club the club the club we're going to the club. What could possibly go wrong with this situation?


	17. Mixing Business and Pleasure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor Trevor has intruded onto 221 B and disrupted the harmony. Now John has obligations to fulfill and an unwanted guest to handle.

John did exactly as he promised himself. The next morning he got up very late, made a cup of tea to sip as he worked and made a huge hot breakfast. Sherlock refused to get out of bed, even when John threatened to have breakfast alone with Victor who was now stirring, “You won’t do anything John and we both know it. One more hour, two, tops.” Sherlock rarely wanted to keep sleeping so John didn’t argue too hard and let his lover drift off again after getting a fortifying kiss to tide him over.

Victor was entirely uncomfortable at the table. He was embarrassed and shifted awkwardly in his seat as John finished cooking. He served their guest a hearty helping of pancakes with sausages and eggs, a hot cup of tea and some silence. They ate quietly and when they were done Victor accepted a last cup of tea. Drinking it in continued silence for a minute Victor finally spoke, “You make him laugh. I’ve never heard him laugh like that before. Last night….well your walls aren’t very good, but after, you both laughed in the kitchen, a lot. When we were in uni I didn’t think Sherlock even understood what a joke was. He was cold and deliberate, totally emotionless. For some reason it made people crazy for him; he never had a problem rounding up enough participants for one of his sex experiments. I was just a standard unit to him, just a base comparison, that’s it. You on the other hand…it’s really love isn’t it?”

Oh my god this man wanted to talk about feelings at the start of the day? John needed a few drinks under his belt before he could endure an ordeal like that but Trevor wasn’t going anywhere. He was sitting on the other side of the table with big tremulous eyes, like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing when John simply said, “Yes.”

Now John was the one squirming. This man was obviously emotional. If only Mrs. Hudson would magically appear, or even Greg! Unfortunately Mrs. Hudson was at her sister’s again and Lestrade had already been told to leave them alone tonight by Mycroft. To his relief Victor just turned crimson all over again and said, “Oh god! I’m such an asshole!” the big man turned and looked down at John, “I’m such a jerk John. I judged you unfairly because; well I’ve never come across anything like this before with someone I know. I wasn’t exactly Sherlock’s friend in university but I remember him being very controlled, very ascetic and very independent. Sherlock allowing you to put a collar on him didn’t even occur to me when I saw it. I wrongly assumed a lot of things after not really thinking about your privacy when I went into your room to grab a book. Sherlock never cared who went into his bedroom in uni. I guess I’ve been treating him like the man I used to think I knew instead of the man that you actually know. Anyway, I’m not a total loser; I’m sorry John, really. From now on if I find out something about you two that I think is weird I’m just going to ask you first, alright? I’ve put my foot in it a lot in the last few days and I’m really sorry for that. Can we please try to get past me being a complete tosser and start again? A man who can interest Sherlock Holmes exclusively has to be a remarkable man and I’d like to be friends with you both, no flirting, no passes, just friends.”

Sherlock’s ex-lover wanted to be John’s friend? John wasn’t sure how to respond to that but Sherlock came yawning into the kitchen and just plopped himself down beside John and leaned over for a morning kiss, “I’m glad to hear it Victor because if I take a page from John’s book on how to deal with ex-lovers I’d be forced to kill you rather gruesomely. Consider yourself lucky.” John laughed with Sherlock but Victor sat there smiling uncertainly so Sherlock said, “Inside joke. You had to be there, don’t worry about it.”

The outside doorbell rang, “Boys! Special delivery!” cooed a deep voice from the street. John rolled his eyes. Could this day get any worse? He’d forgotten about Kirk and the clothes. Sherlock went down and let him in. Kirk flounced into 221 B with every ounce of flair he could muster. He was wearing tight pink pants, a loose white shirt, for some reason a feather boa and sunglasses which he took off as soon as he crossed the threshold, “Oh my GOD JOHN!! Look at your little home. Is that a bison? OH MY GOD THE EAR THINGS ARE PRECIOUS! A skull? Sherlock, that has to be yours, I just know it! JOHN OH MY GOD THIS IS JUST ADORABLE!”

It was almost too early to deal with Kirk prancing around and eagerly examining everything in their flat. He was holding a huge garment bag that he dropped into Sherlock’s unwilling arms before bouncing to the kitchen to kiss John on the cheek so he could watch Sherlock rush over, wipe it off and kiss John himself. That made Kirk sighed happily.

Kirk noticed Victor and stopped cold. A predatory grin covered his face and suddenly John realized that Victor had been noted and targeted. John nodded to their guest, “Kirk, this is Victor, the client. Victor, this is Kirk, the man who’s saving your ass.” Kirk looked at the property he was recovering and the shark grin grew bigger.

Victor stood up to shake Kirk’s hand and the Dom pulled Victor in close and just looked him over openly. He wasn’t subtle. He wasn’t coy. Kirk blatantly checked out every inch of Victor and liked all of it. Kirk hummed happily, “John….he’s so sweet, practically untouched. Please tell me he’s unclaimed!”

Victor looked stormy, “I am not claimed by anyone and I’m not looking to be. I’m here for work and that’s it!” Kirk looked at John like a kid in the candy store.

“John! He’s so feisty! So…not claimed, that’s a lovely bit of news. Hello Victor. I’m Kirk. We’re going to get to know each other very, very well.” Kirk didn’t touch, didn’t step close. He just looked down at Victor and smiled in anticipation. “This makes my choice for tonight so very perfect. Come along Victor. I’ve brought you a present.”

Victor was already following Kirk before he realized he was doing what he was told. Kirk just smiled and relieved Sherlock of his garment bag. “Everyone will be wearing something different. You, my pet, will be wearing something absolutely perfect for the evening. Everyone has been assigned a letter instead of a name. You are “K” perfect, isn’t it? Now you’ll be properly labelled all…night…long.” the shark grin was back in full force. “I’d love to stay and help you get ready but daddy has to go open his club. There are instructions in the bag. Be ready darling, I’ll see you at the meeting.”

Kirk left the flat and suddenly everything seemed so pale and colorless. John bit back a laugh because Victor was sputtering and shaking his head. He hadn’t said a word to Kirk about being his but Kirk didn’t exactly ask. He’d just decided and that was that, Victor was now Kirk’s new point of interest. John was relieved. Kirk was just what Victor needed and it would get him out of 221 B, at least for tonight. John couldn’t imagine Kirk letting Victor slip out of his club without some serious propositioning. Kirk wouldn’t force Victor. He wouldn’t have to. Kirk already knew what Victor needed and was entirely prepared to give it to him once Victor figured out what it was as well. That was the fun part for Kirk. That man was a very special sort of genius, as brilliant as Sherlock in his own kinky way.

There was a smaller bag inside with a “J” and “S”. Sherlock smiled and snapped up the letter “J” but John had no plans to wear anything except Sherlock’s letter “S”. Victor was standing there looking a bit stupefied and John remembered how he’d felt when he saw Sherlock’s clothing offering for the first time. Taking a deep breath John bravely offered, “Do you need help with the outfit? The first one I had needed four pages of instructions to get on.”

Victor paled and looked down at the garment bag and extracted the clothing that Kirk had brought. It was surprisingly demure. It was certainly nothing Victor would ever have gotten for himself but compared to the mass of straps and glitter gel John had worn on his first night Victor was getting off pretty easy. There was still a sheet of instructions, “I have to shave all over. What the fuck?”

“We have two whole cans of shaving gel in the bathroom, use one but go do it now. It takes forever for the hot water to cycle back and John and I need to wash too.” Victor went and got his bathrobe and bathroom kit, disappearing into the shower to shave himself with a lot of cursing and swearing. “It really is much easier with two people John, too bad Kirk had to go to work.”

John tried not to laugh because he certainly wouldn’t be happy if some aggressive Dom decided John was his and just went with it. He’d keep an eye out tonight and if Victor looked like he wasn’t into it John would pull him out. Sherlock came up behind John and slid his arms around John’s chest, holding him tight, “You really are the best of men John Watson, you make me proud.” Sherlock had done his mind-reading trick and knew John was going to look after Victor even though he didn’t really like him. No one should go into a situation without someone watching their back and Victor wanted to be friends. John sighed.

The meeting itself wouldn’t take long; the goal was to get everyone where Sherlock could review their behavior. After that John imagined that those that wanted to leave would leave and everyone else would stay and enjoy Whips Wednesday at the club. Kirk had come on pretty strongly, he was very interested in Victor but Victor had fallen to pieces at the sight of a collar. John wasn’t sure the man had it in him to deal with an entire club filled with the most brazen perverts in London.

Eventually the shower ended and even though they’d had a big breakfast they were about to go out so John made up some sandwiches and forced Sherlock to eat two of them. He wasn’t getting away with this not-eating business anymore. John left a sandwich on the table for Victor and took Sherlock to the shower so they could get ready too.

Sherlock was playful and teased John until the doctor was hard and aching but the detective needed to shave him so John teased Sherlock back until the taller man was whimpering and nearly begging John to take him, “Too bad we have to go out soon Sherlock or I would have had the time to fuck you properly, I guess we’ll have to wait until later.” They really did not have the time to fool around and get ready in time for the meeting. Sherlock groaned with frustration. John agreed with the sentiment but just said, “If you hadn’t started it we’d be out of here without the massive erections. Now we’ll both be hurting all night long.”

Sherlock sulked a bit but they got out, dried off and tried not to continue playing with each other. Dressing was a real chore with a stiff penis in the way. John groaned as Sherlock helped him into the outfit chosen for him tonight. Sherlock wasn’t helping John’s arousal go away. He stuck a micro-dot into John’s hair before tucking another one onto the hem of John’s thin black pants. Sherlock helped his lover step into them, biting his way up John’s legs as he pulled the leather higher. The pants had large silver rings along the waist that hooked into tight leather vest that would encase John’s torso. It left John’s arms bare but since he had moved back to Baker Street John had just gotten leaner and harder nearly everywhere except the stubbornly soft stomach that Sherlock seemed to like. John was glad of the vest now; the front came down and attached to the buckle that held John’s pants closed. Everything was discrete and secure. He could live with it.

When it was Sherlock’s turn John’s teasing was worse. He took Sherlock’s flagging erection into his mouth and brought him back to aching hardness before he tucked Sherlock away into his matching pants, micro-dot safely in place. John caressed Sherlock’s ass and all the exposed skin through the cut-outs on his legs until the taller man groaned and his legs trembled. John then laced the material tight around his narrow hips and locked the codpiece firmly shut. John lashed Sherlock into his top, both men aching in their tight leather pants as John straightened and tightened one strap at a time.

There was a convenient ring at the center of Sherlock’s chest where the straps radiated away to wrap this way and that over his torso. Here John hung the letter “J” before clipping his letter “S” to his own chest along with the key. Sherlock held out his heavy leather collar but John shook his head with a smile, “Close your eyes.”

Sherlock’s eyes snapped shut and he was smiling. John pulled out the new collar and held it out, telling Sherlock he could look. His expression was gratifying, “John. It’s gorgeous! Can I wear it tonight?” Sherlock immediately knelt and exposed his neck for John to buckle it on. It was solid steel, lined with soft fabric but had a spray of long spikes on it. It would definitely hurt if someone were careless. Sherlock was grinning like a fiend. “I love it. Thank you John.” they very cautiously kissed.

John helped Sherlock into his heavy buckled boots after they donned a pair of matching black socks and then Sherlock returned the favor, making sure John’s buckles were bright and shining before he stood again. When they finished adjusting various straps Victor was tapping at their door, “John. I feel like a fool. Are we really wearing things like this or is this some kind of joke?”

John pulled their bedroom door open and Victor gaped at them. He was wearing a leather body suit. The leather was highly polished and long thick laces ran along each leg to cinch the material tight to Victor’s toned legs. A heavy steel zipper ran dangerously over his crotch and presumably up the seam of his ass and his hips were circled with a belt made of heavy steel rings. His top was a leather vest that laced shut leaving Victor’s hard flat belly bare. John had to admit that Victor was quite the sight but not a patch on Sherlock. Victor looked dazed as he looked them both over, “Oh my god. Kirk.”

Victor had pretty much lost all his defiance at that point. If just looking at Sherlock and John made Victor feel helpless to resist then being in the Dom’s presence would be hopeless for the man. Victor followed John and Sherlock numbly, shrugging on the long black coat they provided him with before Sherlock put on his cloak and John put on his own dark coat.

The club was filled. They had pulled their hoods on just before leaving the town car Mycroft had provided them for the night. When they entered Sherlock did his dramatic reveal and stood there for a minute to be admired by everyone before John checked in their things. Victor let out a small gasp of surprise when John produced the tether and clipped himself to Sherlock. He backed away slowly when John produced the leash and offered to clip it to Victor’s belt. He refused angrily so John just shrugged and said, “If you want to offer yourself to everyone okay but if you’re attached to me you won’t find yourself being collared by some random Dom.”

Sullenly Victor allowed John to attach the leash to his belt. John led them both to the back room. Every few feet they were approached by hopeful couples and once a small group but John declined every offer. After the third request to whip Victor he crowded close to John and held onto his leash tight. By the time they got to the last room Victor was ready to sandwich himself between Sherlock and John for protection as he was groped by nearly everyone they brushed past.

Kirk recognized them of course. He took one look and he knew John from his scar but shouted, “J, your ass is magnificent! People should write poetry about it!” Kirk was in full gear tonight. He had no need for discretion so he was not wearing a hood. He came right up to John and held out his hand, looking down at Victor with a small warm smile, “You can say yes or no at any time K, may I have your leash?”

Kirk stood in front of Victor wearing the tightest of black leather pants. They rose high above his hips and ended below his muscular chest. Two large bands rode over his broad shoulders and a heavy steel zipper that matched the one on Victor’s outfit ran from his chest all the way down to the bottom of his left leg, making a distinctive silver slash down Kirk’s body and drew the eye to everything he wanted Victor to pay attention to. They were simple enough, especially for Kirk but something in the way he stood in them, his soft black leather shoes peeking out from the bottom hem where it flared just a bit, something in his pose was powerful, masculine, reassuring and for Victor Trevor, completely irresistible.

John watched Victor’s body language carefully. If the man showed any sort of reluctance or hesitation John would refuse to hand the leash over. Kirk wouldn’t protest. Victor didn’t hesitate. He nodded immediately even if he gasped in surprise afterward. John handed the leash to Kirk and then had to ask, “You sure Victor?” Victor nodded again so John let go.

Kirk smiled and drew the handle of the leash through his hands slowly and smiled down at Victor, “Work first, my pet, play after.” The rest of the associates had arrived. Most of them were moving awkwardly in their D/s clothes, though notably one or two looked perfectly at ease, and all of them were wearing black hoods. There were twelve altogether and so Kirk had arranged for a long table with six seats on each side.

The meeting was simple. They had prearranged questions dealing with the various facets of their loose business association. It was a nice set-up, each business supported the other by way of references by proxy ensuring that each of them profited without needing to resort to drastic measure. It kept everyone in the black and was fairly uncomplicated. Someone in the group was causing discord but the source had been difficult to pinpoint. Discretion was necessary because each of them had rivals that could not know they were part of this particular group or their partnerships would be in jeopardy. Whoever was rocking the boat endangered not just themselves but the other partners and all the associates they were responsible for. Once the culprits were identified they would be excluded from the rest of the group in such a way that they would never be able to operate successfully again and would likely go under. It was death by business meeting.

Sherlock was bored. He didn’t care about things like this but they were here so he did what he had been asked to do. The meeting commenced and it was dull. Figures were cited and trends were noted, decisions were made and everything was all about business. This meeting could have happened at any board-room anywhere. Only the leather made it tolerable. Sherlock slouched back a bit. “G and E are working together against the group. It’s so obvious. Look at the way E grips his pen and how G is carefully following the report with the tip of his finger. Overcautious, partnered, case solved.”

John was sure there was more to it than pens and fingertips but he was bored too. This was the dullest thing they’d ever done. Even stakeouts that took forever had an element of tension to them. This was just being uncomfortable for nothing. It took well over an hour to conclude and John was sick of it all. When everyone rose to leave, the participants all rushed to the exit, desperate to get away from the main stage which was now set up for Whips Wednesday and had been running a series of demonstrations all throughout the meeting.

Victor came over alone while Kirk and his staff cleared away the meeting space and opened it up to the crowds that had been held back by a line of speakers that blasted music towards the stage and left everyone in the meeting in a silent corner walled in with sound so no one could overhear what they spoke about. “Well?” Sherlock told him the suspects. Victor cursed when he heard the letters. He knew everyone in the group, he was the only one that did. The global contacts he had made had been incredibly lucrative for the man and he had done well by them. “I’ll expedite their removal as soon as I get back to the office.”

“So that’s it? We’re done? Never ask us to do anything like this ever again. This was the most stultifying and boring case we’ve ever been on. John, this is the last time we do something like this. I refuse.” Sherlock was being petulant. Kirk walked up and gave a little laugh.

“John you haven’t used my gift I see. Check the bag naughty man.” Kirk winked at John and then took Victor by his leash and led him onto the dance floor. John took Sherlock’s tether and followed. They deserved to dance the night away now that all the dull stuff was taken care of. Sherlock barely resisted. They got to the floor and John carefully removed Sherlock’s hood. Sherlock pulled off John’s and they kissed very carefully, mindful of the points on Sherlock’s collar. One of Kirk’s associates appeared and took Victor’s hood as well as theirs to store in the office until later. They danced.

The music tonight was throbbing and fast-paced. John hitched Sherlock’s hips tight to his, getting Sherlock to nearly sit on his thigh as their legs wove together and their hips began to move. Sherlock dropped his arms over John’s shoulder and the soldier bore him up easily as they twisted and swayed together. Lights began to flash and streak around them as Kirk got his party started for real. It got wild in the club very fast.

John kept an eye on Victor even as Sherlock teased and played with him as they danced. Kirk was working his magic and Victor did not seem to hate it. Kirk was gentle and appreciative of Victor’s charms, but he was also bold and commanding. It was clear to John that Kirk had recognized a submissive element in Victor and was wooing him into accepting Kirk as his Dom. Kirk wanted to teach Victor what he wanted to learn, even if Victor didn’t really understand that he wanted to learn it. Kirk would show him that too.

Sherlock leaned in, “Victor will be collared by the end of the night. We’ll have to send his things along. He’ll be staying with Kirk.” John was relieved. He wanted their flat back. Mrs. Hudson was gone for another night and when they got home John planned on peeling Sherlock slowly and enjoying every delicious inch of him.

The alcohol was flowing freely. John made sure Sherlock had the odd glass of water too but they were in the mood to keep dancing so they stayed at the club. Sherlock looked so good in his leather that John wanted to keep looking just as much as he wanted to go home and take Sherlock out of them. There were a lot of interested looks thrown their way but John ignored everyone, concentrating only on Sherlock. This was their world at the moment and no one else was invited. There was just the music and the beat, their two bodies swaying together.

And a hand. A woman’s hand. Some woman was caressing Sherlock’s chest. John twisted his lover away and saw the dominatrix from their first visit. “He’s lovely. Care to share?” John could not punch a woman just for touching Sherlock but he wanted to.

“We don’t share. Ever. No thank you.” She was undaunted. Looking John straight in the eye she pressed herself up against him and undulated slightly. John had never been repelled by a woman’s body before. He used to love women, used to love their soft curves and hidden secrets. Now she felt alien and incredibly unwelcome. “Fuck right off lady!”

John stepped back and she looked a bit surprised. Clearly she was unused to being rejected. She was very lovely, her hair long and shining, her skin clear and glowing. She was fit yet curvaceous and at any point before Sherlock John would have been beside himself with joy at the mere prospect of being with her. Not now. She looked him over and said with assurance, “You’re not gay.”

Sure. After all this time and all these years, after denying it to the endless parade of people who had assumed John was gay, now in the middle of a BDSM nightclub with his male lover literally tied to him, someone had recognized that John was not gay. “True but that’s no excuse to bloody rub yourself all over us! We’re together or did you miss that!”

“Why do you come here if you don’t want to share?” the woman was getting irate, she was offended and spiteful. Kirk and Victor danced right on over.

“Lasa, don’t be like that. You offered and they turned you down. There are a dozen other couples in here that would be interested, go find a pair.” The woman in red leather scowled, turned on her stiletto heel and left. John exhaled angrily. Sherlock cuddled up behind him and hugged John carefully, always mindful of his sharp collar. Kirk grinned down at the frowning soldier, “You look too tasty John. You can’t blame a girl for trying. Sherlock, I thought you were going to kill her! That face!”

John twisted around. Sherlock’s face was suffused with jealousy and self-doubt. John knew he was questioning John’s attachment to him because John truly was not gay. He didn’t find other men interesting, not even now. John looked up at his lover and just smiled, “It’s always going to be just you and me Sherlock, always and for everything. That’s why I asked you to marry me.”

“Oh my GOD WE SHOULD THROW YOU A BACHELOR PARTY HERE!” Kirk was leaping around, completely excited. He stopped cold, “We can do it next week. I have the perfect theme night already in place. GIRLS NIGHT! Come in drag! Oh my GOD it’s going to be so much FUN! Let me plan it, please please please John?” Kirk was squirming around while John tried to wrap his head around having a bachelor party in drag at a BDSM club. How would his army mates feel about that? Would Greg come? Mycroft? John’s brain snapped off at that image and he almost staggered back. Sherlock was accepting happily.

John stood there in his disregarded Dom clothes as his sub gleefully chatted with another Dom about their bachelor party. Sherlock was excited to try women’s clothing. He knew he looked good in them. John wasn’t so confident. Victor was looking at John with something akin to pity but Kirk just crowded up to the tall dark man and purred, “You are going to look luscious, I promise.” So Victor was coming too. Great, just great! In a week or so John Watson would be attending his bachelor party in drag at a BDSM club with his fiancés ex-lover and his new Dom. Perfect.

John really needed a cup of tea.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drag! Some of you already know what they're wearing ;)


	18. Test of Wills

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock has accepted Kirk's help in arranging their bachelor party!

Kirk had another round of drinks brought to them. Sherlock was laughing with the Dom about ideas for the bachelor party which was now definitely happening. John was in a bit of a daze and tossed his rather strong drink down quickly and had a sit-down. Sherlock knelt on the floor in front of John and just leaned against his legs while speaking to Kirk, both men laughing about the ridiculous things they could do but wouldn’t. It was a rather frightening list. Kirk was as quick as Sherlock and fast to make suggestions. Half their conversation was Kirk explaining to Sherlock about different aspects of the D/s life and all the options he could choose. John was aware that this lecture was for all their benefits, particularly Victor Trevor.

Sherlock’s old lover sat beside Kirk. Their small group was sitting on two small heavily cushioned sofas that faced each other and still provided a clear view of the stage. The whipping demonstration had ended and now there had been a series of different Doms with their subs. It had been educational no matter where your attention turned. John wasn’t aroused by the striking of the sub but he was interested in how they were bound. 

Victor was wide-eyed and clearly in a bit of shock. When Sherlock had first knelt Victor looked like he was on the edge of saying something but Kirk merely laid his hand on Victor’s knee, not looking at the man or saying anything. Victor’s mouth had snapped shut and he just listened to the conversation between the kneeling Sherlock and the very flamboyant club owner. “You are going to meet SO many interesting people baby-doll, you’ll love it. Your John is quite the eye-catcher; people will be simply GREEN with envy.” Kirk winked outrageously at John who just rolled his eyes and had a sip of his fresh drink. He had lost track of how many he’d had by now.

Vladimir and Carl showed up. Carl was minus his punishment collar but was still wearing his hood. Vladimir was recognizable no matter what he wore and tonight he had on simple leather pants and two broad straps over his shoulders. Carl was also wearing pants and like Sherlock he was locked into them but Carl had no top on at all. John smiled a greeting at the hulking Dom and shifted over to make a bit of room for him to sit down. Sherlock stopped leaning on John’s legs and assumed a more formal pose, his fingers splayed on his thighs, his knees spread slightly as he sat on his heels. John saw that Carl had gracefully sunk to the floor, his posture perfect. Sherlock corrected himself and was soon kneeling as perfectly as Carl. John smiled and ran his fingers over Sherlock’s cheek in praise. Sherlock blushed but otherwise kept chatting with Kirk.

Vladimir leaned over and rumbled, “You’re getting married John? Congratulations. I wish you years of joy.” Carl’s fingers twitched the tiniest amount and Vladimir frowned at them. “Yes I know Carl. No need to go on about it.”

Carl’s fingers twitched a little more but the small man seemed to will himself into stillness, his face turned to the floor as he became a human statue. Vladimir frowned again and looked disgruntled. John wondered what was going on. Kirk interrupted his own conversation, prodding Vladimir in the arm, “Just say yes darling, you know you want to.”

Vladimir looked stony, “It should have been the other way around. It’s not right.”

“So he asked first! Say yes you big silly, you want to.” Kirk poked Vladimir again and the huge Dom shook his head and stood abruptly. Taking Carl’s leash he waited for the small man to stand and then strode away to a semi-private nook. They seemed to be talking. Sherlock resumed his planning with Kirk but John was watching the pair in the distance. 

Vladimir seemed to be pleading with Carl. The sub shook his head and obviously answered the big man. Vladimir looked shocked and John watched as Carl stood back and deliberately pulled his hood off. His back was to John but now he could see that Carl had white blond hair, silky and long. Vladimir looked tender and he smiled down at the smaller man. They embraced and the Vladimir tucked Carls’ hood into his belt. Taking the smaller man by the hand he walked him back to their couches.

Carl had kept himself directly behind Vladimir but when they arrived the big man pulled his sub forward. Carl was incredibly handsome. He had big green eyes and soft smiling lips. He was even-toned and clear-skinned, his features almost delicate but definitely masculine. John had to admit that Carl was probably the prettiest man he had ever seen. His cheeks were flushed but that just made him more beautiful.

Vladimir sat down beside John again and Carl sank onto the floor next to Sherlock. The two subs seemed to like each other. They elbowed each other in a friendly way and Sherlock smiled. John looked at Vladimir who was a bit pink in the cheeks. The flush looked a bit odd on the big man but John could see he was incredibly pleased. Kirk was grinning hard once more. “So, should I bring in extra party favors for next week?” Vladimir nodded and Kirk leaped right off the sofa and danced around happily.

John put it all together. Sherlock clearly had understood and only Victor’s clueless face made the doctor feel better about being so slow. Carl had proposed to Vladimir at some point but had not gotten an answer. Now Vladimir had finally said yes so Carl had agreed to remove his hood in public for the first time, for Vladimir and they were going to be at John and Sherlock’s bachelor party as well, “We don’t have close friends in London, do you mind John?”

“No, of course I don’t mind. I have nothing to do with the guest-list anyway. Sherlock and Kirk seem to have all the planning underway. I never thought I’d be having my bachelor in a place like this but whatever Sherlock wants is fine with me. He’s happy so I’m happy.” John toasted Vladimir with the new drink he found in his hand. He had definitely lost track of how many he had consumed.

“That’s it isn’t it. Carl is happy so I’m happy. I just wished I’d asked him.” Carl was blushing hard and Vladimir seemed to find this incredibly enticing. The pair stayed long enough to finish their drinks then said goodnight and left for the evening.

Sherlock was definitely getting drunk. He and Kirk had teamed up together on one of the low couches to do shots and continue talking about the bachelor party. Kirk was full of ideas and he had Sherlock completely involved, mostly because Sherlock was beyond tipsy.

The detective seldom drank like this. He had wine with dinner and sometimes while they watched movies but he hardly ever touched hard liquor. John was unsure about how to deal with the night. Sherlock was completely engrossed and having a great time. John didn’t want to stop it early but Sherlock was most certainly getting incredibly drunk. He and Kirk were now doing another round of shots with Victor. John had some, but stopped early after sampling some of Kirk’s specially mixed and crudely named concoctions.

The detective was slurring now. Sherlock’s posh accent was seriously strained and he giggled a lot. John was very torn because it was a lot of fun but on the other hand Sherlock was completely out of John’s control. It was beginning to really irk the doctor. Kirk was shouting his clothing ideas at Sherlock, both men loud with drink, “She’s a fan, I’m telling you. It’ll be great. Trust me. She’s great.”

“Good. It’s good she’s great. We need her to be great. It’s our party, right John?” Sherlock looked around for John who was sitting behind Sherlock. “John? John, where did you go?”

John tapped Sherlock’s shoulder and the taller man whipped around in surprise and nearly fell over, “I’ve been here the whole time you sot.”

“Jesus John how’d you do that! You’re sneaky. Not sneaky enough for me John Watson. I found you!” Sherlock looked proud of himself, almost sliding off the cushions as he twisted about and John decided the evening was over.

“Come on love, time to get home, alright?” John stood and Kirk stood with him. Victor stayed on the couch and so did Sherlock who looked mulish.

“No.”

“No?”

“No!”

“Why?”

“We’re having fun John. Sit down and have fun with us.” John was tired and Sherlock was clearly more inebriated than John realized. The detective was swaying gently and his eyes blinked in a strangely irregular fashion.

“I’m not having fun anymore. I’m tired and I want to go home. Are you coming with me?” John really was tired and the music was getting on his nerves. Sherlock scowled.

“No. I’ll see you later.” he turned his back on John and sat there defiantly.

John wasn’t going to leave his drunken lover alone in a BDSM club wearing nothing but his submissive clothes! Sherlock couldn’t even go to the bathroom unless John came with him to unlock his pants and if John left that key was going with him! John leaned over, clicked the tether smartly onto Sherlock’s neck collar and snarled into his ear, “Let me rephrase that. We are going home. Right now. Get up Sherlock.”

Sherlock glared at John and deliberately turned his head away. He was being stubborn and childish. John regretted taking such a hard tone with him but it was too late to back away from it now. John leaned in again, “You have a choice Sherlock Holmes. Either you get up now and you come home with me where we will have sex until we can't stay awake a second longer or you stay here with Kirk and Victor to party alone and when you eventually get back to 221 B you will find yourself minus one John Watson for the rest of the week.”

“You wouldn’t leave me here! Where would you go?” Sherlock looked shocked. John straightened up and just looked sternly at Sherlock.

“I don’t want to leave you here; I want to go home to bed. If you want to stay here more than you want to come home with me I’ll let you but I’m going to be so upset about it I’m going to need time to get over it so I’ll go away somewhere. I don’t know where, maybe Sussex.” John dropped his last bomb, “Perhaps Mycroft will have a place for me to stay for a while.”

At the mention of his brother’s name, someone who could certainly hide John for a week Sherlock jumped up off the couch looking panicked yet somehow still angry. John sighed. He was going to have to argue with Sherlock every step of the way. Sherlock looked into John’s face and suddenly his angry posture bled away and Sherlock looked penitent. “John? I’m ready to go home now.”

Kirk looked amused but Victor looked concerned. John looked at Sherlock and saw worry and apprehension mixed in with the drunkenness and John felt bad for pressuring him, “Okay love, I’m glad. Your brother gives me the creeps and I’d rather spend all my time with just you.”

Sherlock gave John a brilliantly happy if somewhat wobbly smile. “I love you Jawn. I love spending time with you too. Bye Victor. Have fun getting whipped and chained.” 

Sherlock didn’t see the alarmed expression on Victor’s face but Kirk just laughed merrily. “We work our way up to whips and chains Sherlock, we don’t just jump in! Victor, my little precious, daddy would never hurt you! Come here baby.” Kirk pulled Victor up off the couch and kissed him for the first time. It was surprisingly gentle and almost tender. John didn’t really want to watch Kirk seduce Victor so he told them goodnight, took Sherlock’s tether in hand and led him away back to Baker Street.

Sherlock was silent on the ride home and held John’s hand very tightly. John felt bad for making Sherlock upset, he had been having a good time but John felt absolutely exhausted and tired of being around other people. He needed to relax at home with Sherlock.

John had intended to make tea when they got back but Sherlock looked so sad and still so worried that John carefully unbuckled his sharp collar so he could kiss Sherlock without risking bloodshed. It had been too long since John had a private moment with Sherlock where it was just the two of them. All of John’s exhaustion fell away as he looked up at his lover’s worried eyes, “I love you Sherlock. I would never leave you behind. If you’d really wanted to stay I would have stayed too. I’m sorry for being so pushy.”

“I’m not. I’m glad you took me home. This is exactly what I want from you John Watson. I know we haven’t done very much with our interest in D/s but you always know when I’ve gone too far, you always bring me back. I’d rather be here with you alone than anywhere else with anyone.” Sherlock leaned down and kissed John softly, still swaying a bit. He grinned, “I think I’m drunk John.”

“You are you boozer. Come on love, let’s get out of this stuff and wash up.” John helped a wobbly Sherlock out of his clothes, both men giggly as they struggled with the key. John wasn’t exactly sober either though he had drunk considerably less than Sherlock. When it finally clicked open Sherlock clawed it off and threw it across the room, demanding John get his pants open as soon as possible.

“I need to pee John. Right now!” John got Sherlock’s pants open in record time. For some reason Sherlock wanted them entirely off not just open. He stumbled over his boots which they had completely forgotten. As soon as he could Sherlock tottered away to the bathroom while John got himself out of his leather, leaving everything in a pile on the living room carpet. Sherlock was already in the shower by the time John arrived. He used the toilet and laughed while Sherlock shouted that all the cold water had gone when John flushed. “You are a bastard John Watson!”

“My parents were married, thank you very much.” John climbed in after the cold water came back on. Sherlock was pressed to the far wall, his eyes closed and he seemed to be falling asleep. No! John had plans! Goals! Orgasms to have! “Sherlock?”

“I was just imagining what it would be like to be married. Will it be different do you think John? Or will we be the same as ever, just John and Sherlock living at Baker Street.” Sherlock’s eyes opened and he seemed alert. John gave a relieved sigh.

“I don’t know Sherlock. I guess we’ll find out though because it’s happening. If we stay the same that would be good but if we change I imagine we’ll change together and it will still be good.” John pressed himself against his tempestuous lover and kissed Sherlock’s chest. “We’ll still do The Work.”

“Of course John, and you’ll still blog about it.”

“Naturally, I like to brag about you.”

“You should tell people about yourself more, they identify with you; they don’t know enough about how incredible you are.” John kept kissing Sherlock’s chest and the taller man put his hands on John’s head, sighing softly, “I like to brag about you too John. You’re amazing.”

“I am? No I’m not.” Sherlock was amazing. John was just average. He was average height, average build, average intelligence, average everything. Even his name was the most common name around. There was nothing notable about John at all.

“You are! Amazing.” Sherlock made John get out of the shower after a minimum of washing. “How do you not know? I’m a bad man for not telling you. I am a bad, bad man.”

“You are a bad man but I rather like that.” John did. He took a great deal of pleasure in Sherlock’s ways. The detective could be abrasive and rude but he did it with such aplomb that it left John breathless with admiration. His Sherlock was brilliant and clever, so much more than plain old average John.

“I’m bad but you’re not. You are good. No matter what! It’s amazing, bloody amazing! Look at Victor! I mean don’t LOOK at Victor but seriously, you would have helped him if he needed it and you don’t even like him, I know you don’t. I barely like him and he used to have sex with me. Don’t worry about that though because you are WAY better. Amazingly better. You’re amazing. See? And Mycroft, you HATE Mycroft but you didn’t break his nose the way you wanted to because you’re amazing. All sorts of things John, I could go on forever about you. I’d never stop.” Sherlock was most certainly drunk but he was sweet and smiling, hopeful and happy looking again.

Sherlock came up behind John and wrapped his arms around the smaller man, “I like how you fit against me. You’re just the right size, small and strong, more would be too much. I like the way you smell and I love how my pillow smells like you now and our sheets too. I sleep better when you’re beside me. I like knowing that I can kiss you now and that touching you in the night is okay and that you’ll always make me tea when I ask for it and sometimes even when I don’t.”

“I want to have sex now.” said John. Being with Sherlock as soon as possible had suddenly become a priority in John’s life. The taller man was running his hands hungrily over John and he almost growled.

“Good. Me too,” Sherlock pulled John to the bed where they tumbled over one another, laughing and kissing their way over each other. John still felt badly about manipulating Sherlock earlier. He didn’t want to be that sort of person. Sherlock was emotionally fragile. John promised himself he’d never do anything of the sort again, even if Sherlock had been alright with it this time. He loved the brilliant detective. John would just learn how to be more patient and how to gently encourage Sherlock to consider John’s requests. Sherlock kissed John tenderly, “It’s really alright John. I’m glad we’re home. Don’t feel bad. I can see it all over your face. It’s okay honey.”

There it was again, that unintentional endearment. It made John’s heart beat faster and he kissed Sherlock back, their mouths moving gently over each others, barely touching and their breaths mixing. Both men tasted of alcohol and each other. “I never want to hurt you Sherlock, not even for a second. You don’t deserve that. I’m sorry for taking you out of the club that way. I would never leave you, not even if I was very upset with you.”

“I’m glad John. I’d miss you. I’d feel wrong about not having you near me. I love you. I need you. You know I do.” their kisses were growing desperate as well as heated. John wanted to keep it slow and tender so he slowly shifted them around until Sherlock was splayed over John, his mouth trailing over the doctor slowly.

John willingly turned to his stomach when Sherlock urged him and spread his legs so those long slim fingers could work their magic. The click of the lube bottle and a shaky exhalation from Sherlock let him know the man was nearly ready. John certainly was. Both men groaned as Sherlock pressed inward. He laid himself along John’s body and moved slowly, drawing it out. Sherlock gently kissed and bit along the base of John’s neck, occasionally kissing the back of John’s head. He kept it slow and loving for as long as he could. Eventually though his cheek was pressed to John’s as Sherlock yanked John’s hips up and began to ride him earnestly.

John loved how this felt, to be surrounded by Sherlock’s big long body, to have him deep inside as well. Each kiss on his neck had made the doctor shiver and now the sound of Sherlock’s impassioned breaths mixed with his was almost unbearably sensual. Sherlock’s hands covered John’s and their fingers laced together. Somehow he managed to hook John’s legs with his so they were braced against each others body. Sherlock’s whole body now encased John’s and his hips were driving fast and sure.

John was overheating, breathless, covered in sweat and unable to move. His cock was rutting against the sheets and it was just barely enough friction to allow John to keep rising. He’d never felt more loved in his whole life. Sherlock was chanting John’s name as he fucked John harder, his thrusts becoming rapid and his voice rising in pitch. Just when John couldn’t bear any more Sherlock gave a great cry. With a twist of his hips the big man began to orgasm and his wild thrusts tipped John right over the edge of the world into bliss.

A long time later John came out of his daze to realize he was cleaned up and lying on his side. Sherlock was spooned up tight to John’s back, his large arm covering John’s all the way down to his elbow which Sherlock seemed to be hanging on to. John’s head was cushioned on Sherlock’s other arm and the sleeping detective had draped a sheet over their hips, his curls crushed against the pillow. His chin was poking the back of John’s head and his snores filled the room. John still felt a bit drunk, he was definitely worn out and so with a smile the doctor let his eyes close and fell happily asleep once more, cuddled tight against the world’s only consulting detective.

 

Cozy - Taikova

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aw....things seem to be going SO well for the boys. Isn't that lovely?
> 
> the image is from the artist Taikova, good stuff!


	19. Hangover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Partying with Kirk was a lot of fun but all fun ends eventually.

Hangovers were a miserable business. When John woke up in the morning he regretted every drop of alcohol that had passed his lips. His head throbbed. His eyes burned. John’s stomach was revolting against everything that had been done to it. He needed to pee and wondered if dying first would just be easier.

Sherlock groaned as he woke. They were still spooned together but now John felt hot, sweaty and not ready to face reality. “Kill me. Please.” whispered Sherlock. The waft of stale alcohol morning breath was more than John could deal with and aching head or not he was up and out of the bed at the speed of light.

John clutched the toilet. His life depended on hanging on to the bowl. He had never been so miserably sick in his life and when the throbbing in his head quieted a tiny bit he began to plot a way to end Kirk and Kirk’s diabolical bartender. This was their fault.

John had barely flushed his mess away when Sherlock came barreling into the bathroom. Shoving John aside Sherlock made good use of the space recently test-driven by the good doctor. John had been so thorough that he was unable to join Sherlock, even though his body urged him to do so. John got the shower started instead and trembled under the water, each drop slamming painfully into his body.

Sherlock joined him eventually. He’d flushed the toilet and John had just let the hot water boil over him rather than move out from under the spray. He was already in so much pain, what was a little undiluted hot water? Sherlock at least had the foresight to activate the venting fan and the steam and stench began to leave the room as the two men clung sorrowfully to one another under the water.

They got out with pained slowness and climbed into their robes. Both men were silent and Sherlock didn’t protest when John gave him a tall glass of water and two pain killers, joining the detective with his own portion. After they got into their robes both men shuffled carefully to the kitchen where John made tea, a lot of it.

After an hour or so of tea drinking John made toast. Sherlock nibbled the crusts off the edges and John ate the middles. Sherlock had just finished the last bit of toast edge. He looked down at John, “We have a fitting this afternoon.”

Oh god for what? John wasn’t prepared to face the world. It was bright and things moved fast. He felt a bit soft around the edges and his head was in a delicate state, “When?” he asked with resignation. Headache or not John knew that Sherlock had made plans with Kirk and on top of a first-rate hangover John would probably now be spending time being pawed by some sort of BDSM clothing designer.

“Three. We have a bit more time to recover.” John laid himself face-up on the sofa. He refused to open his eyes but shifted enough for Sherlock to spread himself face down on the doctor to hang limply over John. They soaked in the heat of the other’s body and didn’t move for the longest time.

They heard footsteps on the stairs to the landing. Their front door opened but neither John nor Sherlock moved. John sniffed the air, taking in the cologne he had grown to recognize, “Mycroft. Make yourself at home. Feel free to make us some tea.”

“Doctor Watson. I hope I’m not intruding.” Mycroft walked to the kitchen and they heard the sounds of the tap being run and the kettle being set on the stove. John planned to ignore Mycroft as much as possible. Sherlock hadn’t flinched or moved at all. His arm hung to the floor and just dangled there loosely. John wondered if he was still conscious. Deciding he didn’t care John hid his face in Sherlock’s curls and breathed in the smell of his lover’s shampoo rather than the overly spicy scent that Mycroft wore too much of.

Tea-making only took so long though so Mycroft eventually made his way back. John heard the clink of their mugs and smelled the enticing aroma of perfectly brewed tea. Mycroft did have some skills after all. When the sounds indicated that Mycroft had settled himself onto John’s chair Sherlock finally spoke, “You got my text.”

“Indeed brother. Why am I here?” Mycroft had the incredible talent of sounding bored and interested at the same time.

“Round up Lestrade and free up this afternoon, three pm. John and I are having our bachelor party next week. There’s a theme dress-code and your wardrobes are inadequate.” Sherlock was still face-down on John who had his eyes closed again. The tea smelled amazing but his head still hurt and there were still a couple of hours left before he needed to be up.

“I’m afraid I can’t today. I have meetings this afternoon with various foreign dignitaries. I can’t answer for Gregory; you’ll have to check directly with him.” John was actually glad to hear that Mycroft wasn’t just arbitrarily making decisions for Greg.

“Fine, I’ll be texting you a request for your respective measurements later on. I’d appreciate a prompt reply since you aren’t going to be there to assist choosing your costume for the evening.” Mycroft set his tea down and John continued not looking at him.

“Very well brother. I’ll expect to hear from you.” Mycroft was actually going to let Sherlock arrange an outfit for the evening without clearing it first? Sherlock hadn’t said a word about the evening being at Kirk’s club or that it the clothes required would be of the feminine persuasion. John kept his face firmly planted in Sherlock’s curls. He didn’t want his face to give away anything and for a second worried that his hands, which were now clutching Sherlock’s top, might give Mycroft some sort of blatant clue that his brother was being given more discretion than was perhaps wise.

They waited until the door to the street shut then Sherlock said, “Pass me the phone, I have to call Greg.” John patted around until he located Sherlock’s phone, his soft laughter jiggling Sherlock slightly, “John, control yourself. I have to sound serious.”

Sherlock waited until John settled down and then made a rare call directly to Lestrade. Without preamble Sherlock simply said, “John and I are having our bachelor party next week and we want you and Mycroft to come as part of our group. There’s a costume requirement but Mycroft is too busy to come to the fitting today, can you make it?” Sherlock listened for a minute and then ended the call. His thumbs flew over the screen and he sent off a text. “He’ll meet us there at three.”

Chores done Sherlock went limp again. John lay there grinning, wondering what sort of clothes they could dress Mycroft up in and if Greg would tell him in advance or not. Maybe Greg wouldn’t want to do it but John privately thought he would. Greg liked to have fun and he wasn’t shy about how he went about it. He’d dress up as a woman for a laugh. Suddenly John felt better about the whole idea. Sherlock kissed him softly, “You think very loudly. I’m glad you want to do this with me. I think it will be fun.”

“I do too. Kirk knows how to have a good time. I’m just a bit worried about how my mates are going to take this. It’s short notice so not many of them will be able to get here. I’ll have to make some calls later today.” John saw his fellow veterans fairly regularly and had been friends with many of them for years.

Sherlock propped himself up onto his elbows and looked down at John, “Are you worried about their reactions?”

John thought about this, “No, I suppose not. It’s not up to them to tell me it’s alright to be in love with you or to give me permission to marry you. I won’t hide anything but I’m not making a big deal about it. We’re getting married and if they want to come have some fun at our stag party then great. If not, well, it was nice knowing them.”

Sherlock looked so surprised, “You’d just walk away from your friends for me?” How could Sherlock even ask that?

“Sherlock, if they have such deeply felt issues about me marrying a man then we aren’t really friends. I imagine there’ll be a lot of surprise but when all is said and done they’ll know enough to decide for themselves. I care about my friends and I would hope they respect me enough to respect my decisions. I love you and we’re getting married. That’s all anyone needs to know and I don’t need their approval.”

That statement seemed to make Sherlock happy and he snuggled down on top of John once more. They drowsed away their free time until they had to get up and get ready to leave. In deference to their upcoming exposure to a perfect stranger John wore his mildest pair of pants, simple green and black stripes and Sherlock of course pulled on the matching socks to go with it. John picked a relatively demure pair of pants for Sherlock and added his normal black socks. He had white ones once but Sherlock had gotten rid of them, preferring to wear only black pants.

Sherlock helped John into his coat, dotting little kisses on the doctor’s head. Sherlock was a lot more affectionate than John would have figured but the doctor liked it a lot and didn’t protest a single moment. John was still feeling poorly so he allowed himself a minute to just lean up against Sherlock, arms wrapped tight around him to just breathe and brace himself to go outside. When he was ready Sherlock held the door open for the doctor and following him downstairs.

The shop they arrived at wasn’t what John was expecting. It was a theatrical props store; the front was filled with amazing creations of every description, all cleverly pieced together with materials of all sorts. John was impressed with the realism of some of the work and wondered what they were even doing there. Sherlock led him to the back and spoke to a young man at the counter, “Kirk arranged an appointment for us under the name John Watson.”

The young man nodded them through a curtained doorway. Going through John found himself in a gigantic room filled with partially finished projects. A tiny blonde woman was standing at a long table. She was wearing coveralls that had a myriad of things pinned onto it or tucked into a dozen or so pockets she had obviously attached to it. “Hey! You must be John the Dom and Sherlock the Sub! Kirk told me about your party! Congratulations! Get over here you two. Glad to meet you. I’m Alice.”

Alice didn’t waste time. She pulled out a short plinth and made John get on it after making him strip down to his pants. “Okay sweetie, I’m going to take all kinds of measurements. You have a grown up right here so if I get near anywhere you don’t want me to go you just shout out okay?” John giggled and Alice chuckled with him. She had a clipboard and a tape measure. Setting to work John was measured in every possible way. Sherlock was fascinated and kept commenting about John’s measurements and how perfectly proportioned he was. It seemed to impress the scientist. Eventually Alice was done and it was Sherlock’s turn.

John dressed slowly and admired Sherlock’s long nearly naked body. Alice was chatting away with Sherlock, telling him genially to shut up when Sherlock complained that his limbs were too long and his ass was too big and how his face was alien. “I’ve never heard someone fish for compliments as hard as you Sherlock! John, what’s his issue?” John laughed at the look on Sherlock’s face. The man clearly wanted to deny Alice’s claim but John knew it was true. Sherlock did love to be complimented; he loved attention good or bad. John made a note to make more of a fuss over Sherlock’s appearance which John did indeed find very attractive.

After Sherlock was dressed they sat down with Alice to have a cup of tea. “Alright so tell me about yourselves.” Sherlock launched into an explanation of their Work and added in how John was a doctor and used to be a soldier. He took her phone and programmed in John’s blog so she could read about them herself.

Alice glanced it over and nodded, “Okay, I have enough to work with. Come back in three days for the pinning. Kirk said I got a free hand in the design otherwise I charge you for making something I don’t want to make.” They were getting their costumes for free? John was going to ask but Lestrade walked in.

“You’re late.” scowled Sherlock and Greg just shrugged.

“I have a job Sherlock. You didn’t give me a lot of time to clear my schedule. I did the best I could. Now, I don’t have long so what’s going on?” John liked and respected Greg so he just told him. He was happy when Greg roared with laughter and stripped down to his pants so Alice could measure him. He was fit and hard all over, the gray on his head matching the gray in his body hair. Apart from that though there was very little about Greg Lestrade that seemed to belong to a man past fifty. When he was thoroughly measured he agreed to do the same on Mycroft and to text Alice his measurements. Alice had a quick talk with Greg about his work and got an impression of Mycroft’s work as well. When she had all her notes in order she shook everyone’s hand and said good-day.

Greg left to return to work but Sherlock took John to a restaurant. “You need to eat John. You’ve only had toast today and you get very irritable if you haven’t been fed regularly.”

“I’ll eat if you eat and I mean more than breadsticks this time.” John had learned to be cautious when extracting promises from Sherlock. He always kept them but he was a master at finding loopholes.

They ate. John was pleased to see Sherlock clean his plate and even stole a bit or two from John’s dessert. Their hangover had disappeared somewhere in Alice’s shop and John was grateful. Once they were done John and Sherlock strolled around for a long time, just enjoying the streets and each other. When John’s shoulder started to trouble him due to the cold Sherlock flagged down a taxi and had them brought back to Baker Street.

“I’m going to start the fire.” decided John. Sherlock went to fix the bed so John knelt in front of the fireplace. They seldom used it but tonight was nippy and it would be romantic to settle in front of the flames and just idle the evening away. There was paper crumpled in it and John had long since learned to check everything before he put a match to it. Sherlock had the unfortunate tendency to destroy things he didn’t want to deal with; things like bills or notices from various people that Sherlock couldn’t be bothered to deal with like fans and once, an invitation for John to lecture in Switzerland. Sherlock hadn’t wanted John to go so he had thrown the invitation away.

Most of the paper was just junk-mail. There was one sheet of white paper and John wasn’t thinking when he smoothed it out. There was only a single line, “You never asked who Jim worked for.” John sank onto the floor, sitting cross-legged in front of the fireplace. John was overwhelmed with memories of being forced into a Semtex vest and forced to taunt Sherlock. They’d nearly died more than once in those few minutes. A phone call had stopped the madman. John realized his hands were shaking and that he had torn the note to shreds. Sherlock was behind him, his arms wrapped tight around John as he whispered quickly, “I did ask. I tried to find out. I spent all that time searching. I swear John; I swear I would have told you if I knew anything. I don’t but I tried to find out. I tried my best.”

“How many times did he take me Sherlock? How many times did you have to track down Moriarty and get me back? How many times did he try before we killed him?” John couldn’t help shuddering now. James Moriarty had decided he was in love with John and had kidnapped him numerous times, attempting to woo John with an escalating string of gruesome crimes that he then invited the doctor to help ‘solve’. Sherlock had found John over and over again, rescuing his best friend from insanity with determination.

“Seven times John. He took you seven times, not including the pool.” Sherlock felt stiff for a second and then he seemed to deflate somehow. “I can’t be sure but I’m pretty sure Mary worked for the same person. I’ve never been able to confirm anything.”

Oh fucking god! There was someone in the world that could find people like Mary Morstan and James Moriarty, keep them on leashes and force them to do their bidding? This was worse than Magnusson! Why had this person kept Jim from killing them? Why had he or she sent in Mary to seduce John? What was this game they were playing and why did John and Sherlock seem to have their interest? “Sherlock, are we safe?”

Sherlock trembled a bit, “No John, we’re not safe. We’re never safe. Honey, I swear I will do my best to protect you, just like I know you’ll do your best to protect me. I don’t know who this person or persons are! I searched John, I searched the world for answers and I got nowhere. I couldn’t stay away from you forever, I needed to come home. I….I love you John. I needed to be with you, any way I could.” 

John wrapped his arms around Sherlock and made a decision, “Together, always together. We don’t take any more risks than are necessary. No more wandering around the city alone Sherlock. I’m going to fall apart if you get hurt one more time without giving me a chance to stop it. I love you too so promise me. You come with me and I come with you, no matter what.” 

Sherlock looked down at John, his eyebrows knitting. “What about the clinic?”

“I’ll quit the clinic. We don’t need my hours there anymore. We’ll just do The Work, together.” Sherlock was completely surprised.

“John you love being a doctor. I can’t ask you to do that.” John looked up at his lover.

“You’re not asking. I’m telling you that’s what I’m doing. Yes I love being a doctor but do you seriously think spending the afternoon treating colds and ear infections is going to be more important to me than taking care of you? Maybe if I could still be a surgeon I’d feel differently but I’ll never be one again. You are the most important person in my life Sherlock! If we’re not safe we can’t watch each other enough!” John kissed his fiancée tenderly. “I love you.”

Sherlock kissed John hard, his breath catching in his throat, “I love you too John, with all my heart. Together then.” John didn’t waste any time. He got his laptop and composed a letter to his administrator. He didn’t give specific reasons but gave his notice effective immediately. He would imagine there would be some hard feelings after all this time but John didn’t regret his decision. Keeping Sherlock safe would always be more important to John than anything and if they were being targeted then John couldn’t be paranoid enough. He sent it off, satisfied.

“What about everything else?” asked Sherlock.

“You mean the stag? We do it. We can’t avoid living our lives Sherlock but we can avoid being separated. If something is going to happen eventually I’d rather be by your side than not. We’ll just do what we do and when things go south we keep doing what we do. We survive, we heal and we move on.” John was resolute.

Sherlock was incredibly moved, “John, you are the most amazing man I have ever had the privilege of knowing. Every time I think I know you something happens to show me I have so much more to learn. You always surprise me. I love you John, thank you for loving me back.”

John pulled away and lit the remains of Mary’s message and started the fire with it. Once the flames were crackling he tossed on the shredded remains and felt better. They had an enemy but one that had been on their trail for years and had not succeeded. Whoever it was had managed to stay out of sight from Sherlock but now John knew as well. Whoever this person was, their world had just gotten a lot more dangerous. Captain John Hamish Watson never backed down from a challenge.


	20. Invites

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John has a bachelor party to deal with and old friends to contact. How will his old mates react when they learn who John is marrying?

First thing in the morning John Watson did the hardest thing he’d ever had to do. He called his friends down at the center and arranged to meet everyone to for the sole purpose of inviting them all to his bachelor party. John had initially thought to call each of them personally and tell them his news but the idea of having to explain Sherlock dozens of times over changed his mind. Instead he just said he had news to share and told them when and where to meet if they had time that evening. All of them promised to come so it was set for after dinner.

Now all John had to do was get through the day with Sherlock who only had John for a friend and had never once felt he needed to explain himself to anyone. To anyone else it would seem that Sherlock was completely unaffected, he looked relaxed and calm all day long but John knew his friend’s tells better than even Mycroft now and John saw that Sherlock was incredibly nervous. John wasn’t sure why since meeting John’s family hadn’t shaken him. Why would a bunch of old soldiers make Sherlock Holmes nervous? The man had faced the highest levels of government and royalty unfazed; he’d simply done The Work and moved along. “They know you John, they respect you. I don’t want you to lose their good opinion because of me. I don’t want you to be hurt one more time because of me and I fear that tonight you are going to face some unpleasant reactions.”

John just looked calmly back at Sherlock. John took a deep breath and just smiled at his lover, “I’m not going to get hurt. I might not like what I hear tonight but I know what I’m doing, I know what the risks are and I know you’re going to be right there with me so I’ll be fine. We’re fine.”

Sherlock was taken aback yet again. “Your faith in me is astounding. You’re probably the only person in the world who thinks I’m a risk worth taking.”

‘The fact that you’re a risk at all is what caught my eye so really, that’s just working in your favor.” John kissed Sherlock lightly. “Listen, me marrying a bloke is going to surprise them but they’ll at least appreciate the work we do if only for the amount of times we bleed doing it. It will be fine, I’m telling you.”

“Very well John but if you insist on going out tonight I suppose I must capitulate and eat dinner first. Can we have Thai tonight?” John was only too happy to promise to feed the detective later on but it also meant that Sherlock could refuse food for the rest of the day which he did and just drank tea. John didn’t press the issue but he did make sure he left toast on the table just in case and later on that afternoon he replaced empty toast plate with one filled with biscuits. Those disappeared as well.

John puttered around the flat doing his chores du jour. He checked items off his chore list and made sure he got the extra tasks done as well resulting in a clean living room. Well, mostly clean. Sherlock wouldn’t move off the sofa when John Hoovered so John just worked around the detective until there was only a Sherlock shaped shadow of dust on the cushions. John pretended not to hear Sherlock’s mobile ring so the detective was forced to answer it himself. Sherlock was hoping for a last minute case to pop up and Greg had promised to call if anything over a seven cropped up. John quickly cleaned the dust away while Sherlock was in the kitchen, “John that was cheating.”

John stuck his mobile back into his pocket, his text to Sherlock, “Move your lazy arse – JW” making the smaller man chuckle. He’d deliberately put Sherlock’s mobile on the kitchen table, anticipating Sherlock’s obstinate need to rebel against cleaning the flat. John wasn’t going to live in filth no matter how interesting it was to watch develop.

John had just finished when Sherlock grabbed him from behind. “Cheater.” whispered Sherlock before he bit John lightly on the back of the neck. John shut the Hoover off immediately and Sherlock pushed him down onto the newly cleaned sofa. It seemed being tricked was an excellent way to arouse the detective. Sherlock was playful but insistent. It wasn’t long before John was fully naked along with the tall thin man. “I love the way you look John. I’m going to kiss all your scars.”

He did. Sherlock started at the top of John and worked his way down John’s front at first then made him lay face down on the sofa so Sherlock could work his way down John’s back. It took a while for there were a lot of kisses required to get all of them. It all ended up with Sherlock working himself up into quite a state, chasing John into the bedroom where he proceeded to take the doctor almost savagely. John loved every moment even though it gave him a bit of a funny and unmistakeable walk that he would have to deal with before they went out.

They took a long hot bath and that helped. Sherlock was like a kitten now, affectionate and practically purring. He didn’t argue when John ordered supper in after they got out and even cleaned the table off voluntarily so they could eat without fear of contamination. He used the still empty cupboards. John didn’t mind. He kept all their food in a single cupboard next to their few dishes. If Sherlock used the other empty cupboards then he wouldn’t be storing absolutely everything right on the table. Both men were happy.

When it was time to dress Sherlock wore his slinkiest suit, his thinnest tightest white shirt and because John was wearing the pants to match, Sherlock had on a pair of brilliant blue socks decorated with dozens of tiny rainbows. They were incredibly eye-catching. Sherlock spent a long time fixing his hair and when he was done preening he was almost sultry, his hair shining; his curls perfectly tousled and bouncy. John approved. Sherlock looked delicious.

John wore tan trousers and his black and white jumper, one of his long time favorites and Sherlock’s as well. Once he slipped into his brogues he looked as if he were ready to go to work, his normal, everyday look. Sherlock approved. He thought John looked delicious. John gave Sherlock one more kiss then said, “Just be yourself.”

They arrived at the pub right on time but everyone else had arrived early. The old soldiers had taken over a long table, the seats nearly full of burly men, a couple in uniforms but the rest in civilian clothes, “John you little bastard! Well, what is it! You’ve got news and we’ve been waiting.” The speaker was a tall brunette man.

“Shut it Jones.” John and Sherlock sat at the head of the table in the only two seats left. Everyone looked curiously at Sherlock who slouched almost aggressively into his chair. John looked over the group. He’d been stationed with, worked beside, bled next to most of them. He’d patched up nearly all of them as well. “My big news is that I’m getting married.”

A general joyfulness erupted from the table, “Where is she John? Do we get to meet her?”

John looked around, “Him not her and yes, this is him. Everyone I’d like you to meet my fiancé, Sherlock Holmes, Consulting Detective.” Sherlock looked at everyone and everyone looked back at him. Their eyes swiveled to John and back to Sherlock.

“You’re having us on.” One of them said in disbelief.

“I’m really not. We’re getting married.” Okay it wasn’t going so badly, but the shock hadn’t worn off yet.

Another one looked suspiciously at Sherlock. “You’re gay John?”

“No. It’s just Sherlock.” for some reason that relaxed some of the men at the table and the tension seemed to ebb away for most of them.

“What do you mean Consulting Detective? When did you decide to marry a bloke John? You’ve always been a skirt chaser.” Well this actually wasn’t so bad, they sounded curious not upset.

“Sherlock and I have been best friends for years now, since I was discharged. We solve crimes together. Sherlock gets called for all the most difficult cases, one’s that even the so-called professionals can’t solve.” now they looked impressed. Sherlock was slouching harder than ever, looking almost bored. John held back a grin. He had after all told Sherlock to be himself and he would definitely be bored with this kind of talk.

“Seriously? What does he do, pouffe at things?” raucous laughter erupted and John rolled his eyes. Clearly they had no issue with Sherlock if the harassment was already starting. If they’d disliked the detective every last one of them would have been coldly polite.

Sherlock glanced at the man who had spoken and rattled off a series of deductions he had made based on the crease of the man’s shirt-sleeve, the way he groomed his mustache, and an obviously accurate description of some rather shady business deals in the making. Silence ruled the table. “Do me next!”

Everyone burst out laughing and soon Sherlock was being made to deduce one man after the other while John sat back and watched his lover impress everyone. When his friends began to ask questions about The Work Sherlock did the same thing as he had done with John’s mother, he told the stories as if John was the hero all the time. This information was received with understanding nods from the men.

“I bet he hasn’t said a word about what he was like in the army. He was a real dog of war. No one went harder, worked longer, risked more or saved more lives than this little man right here. Nothing stopped him. He’s completely fearless. Other medics hid in the hospitals surrounded by guards but this little man would volunteer to go on patrols to find people to help. If he’s decided to watch your back for the rest of his life you really must be someone special Sherlock. It’s good to hear you appreciate him properly.” Sherlock sat up and looked at the speaker, a man named Stevens.

“John is the most incredible person I’ve ever met and indeed the only person I have ever met that I have not wanted to kill on sight. Most people bore me or worse, irritate me but never John. He’s interesting, brave, deadly, and he makes the best cup of tea in the realm.”

“TO JOHN’S TEA” everyone shouted, all having enjoyed tea with John on many occasions. Everyone was laughing now. There were one or two faces that had pinched disapproval on them but they still said nothing and John appreciated that. The world was filled with people like that, people who wouldn’t approve of your choices and never would but at least these men knew John well enough to keep their opinions on this matter off the table, at least for now.

The conversation now turned to crimes and the things John and Sherlock went through to solve them. Sherlock’s entire life seemed highly acceptable to all of them. They approved of his long hours and his dedication to finding the real answer. They applauded his research cursing their own superiors for never seeming to have the answers they needed when they were required. Most of them looked at Sherlock’s website “The Science of Deduction” on their mobiles, garnering the page new hits for the first time in years. Almost no one but Sherlock ever used it but now he had a group of old soldiers laughing and typing in questions merrily.

They began reading bits of John’s blog and one at a time their eyes turned to John, almost solemn. Wise eyes flickered over John’s body, all of them knowing how he had been wounded before he left military life behind and all of them understanding immediately that it was Sherlock who had gotten John past that final mental barrier that kept him using the cane for far too long. “He brought you back to it, didn’t he John.”

John understood what his friends meant, John had withered because he was a soldier, a warrior and he was taken away from the very thing that made the blood pump through his veins, the war. Sherlock’s entire life was a battle and John was the only one who was there with him, throwing himself in the line of fire time and again and loving his partner for giving him the chance to do so. Now there was respect even on the disapproving faces. As vets themselves they all knew the crippling boredom of civilian life, how no matter how much you loved your friends and your family they would never be to you what your old mates in the army were, that they could never understand what it was like to suffer on the field, to bleed together, to make reckless promises if only they survived one more day. Sherlock understood. The soldiers looked into Sherlock’s wild eyes and saw the storm that John had fallen in love with and approved all over again.

The evening seemed to go by swiftly. Sherlock told them about how he had faked his death, how he had spent two years ridding the world of various criminal organizations to save John and found himself surrounded by new fans. Sherlock’s cold factual delivery of the story had impressed them more than any wild tale of adventure and all of them accepted that yes, Sherlock Holmes was definitely worth marrying if he was willing to kill himself to save John, sacrifice his career and reputation and then risk his life for years to keep saving John. Not one of them found anything unacceptable about that.

Finally John had to get to the last matter of the day, “So now you’ve met Sherlock, you know we’re getting married so that means a bachelor party. We have one being organized for us, but it isn’t your usual kind of party. I want you all to come but I warn you, you might not like it. If you can’t make it I understand.”

John couldn’t have hooked them harder if he tried, “Tell us then. Why wouldn’t we like it?”

Sherlock looked them over, “It’s next week, everyone has to come in drag and it’s happening at a club that specializes in bondage and domination as well as sado-masochism and other fetish driven lifestyles. We met the owner because of The Work.”

There was dead silence at the table. All the soldiers were speechless. Sherlock pulled out his mobile and did a quick search. Holding his phone up Sherlock showed the soldiers a series of pictures. Jaws dropped and everyone looked at John who was expressionless, “Do I have to shave my legs because my wife is going to definitely ask questions about that.”

Everyone roared with laughter and soon the soldiers were teasing each other about the size of their asses and who would look good in a bra or who should have been wearing one already. All of them, even the ones who didn’t approve of John’s choice were joking around about high heels and wax jobs. John promised to send out a mass text with the address and time before standing up to shake everyone’s hand to say goodnight.

When they got back to 221 B they had company. Mycroft and Greg were there and Mycroft had his scowl turned up to maximum. It was late in the evening and John had entertained the thought of making it difficult for Sherlock to walk again. With Mycroft glowering at him though all sexy thoughts were out the window. “Gregory has told me of our invitation to your bachelor party.”

“Great! I’m really looking forward to it. I just invited all my army mates to join in the fun. All of them will be there.” John smiled in the extra friendly way he knew irritated Mycroft the most. It was even better now that John KNEW Mycroft had come to complain and probably back out of attending. “They’re all excited to dress up. It should be a good time.”

Mycroft’s scowl increased in intensity. If John’s highly masculine war veteran friends were willing to dress up as ladies to come party with John then Mycroft had very little grounds to object, “I will choose my own outfit then, thank you for your offer of assistance.” John smiled at Mycroft. He’d wondered how hard Mycroft would argue with him and in a way John had hoped that Mycroft would try being insulting yet again. John still had a broken nose waiting for Mycroft and was just waiting for the perfect moment to deliver it.

Wisely Mycroft said nothing further so John set the broken nose aside for later, it would keep. Lestrade spoke next, “I know it’s late but I do have something I want you to look at.” He handed Sherlock a small file. Flipping it open Sherlock and John examined several crime scene photos. John sat closer to Sherlock and soon both of them were working wordlessly on everything in the file. Greg arranged for them to have access and then they were off on a case.

It felt good to be trailing after Sherlock again, gun tucked safely away until it was needed. Tonight was a series of gruesome mutilations, body parts left all over London in a huge display. They were on the move for days. It wasn’t until late in the weekend that Sherlock finally put it all together and after a bit of a fight between John, Sherlock and about a dozen strung out young men and women Lestrade moved in with his team to arrest a group of university students who had taken their ancient religion studies a little too seriously. Mixing their discussions with mind-altering drugs had not helped and they had talked themselves into a series of ritualistic seeming murders on behalf of the gods they felt had been neglected for too long.

John and Sherlock went home after they gave their statements, happy and worn out. Intending to shower, eat and have sex both men were disappointed to find Victor waiting for them. “I’ve got your check. I’ve been trying to see you for days but your landlady just kept telling me you’re on a case. You both look like shit! Have you even eaten?”

John shook his head to hear his own question being asked of him, “It was a while ago. We were just going to order in.” he didn’t exactly ask Victor to join them.

“Kirk is taking me out tonight. Um…I need to get my things. I didn’t just want to come in without seeing you first.” John made no mention that Victor hadn’t needed his clothes for days now. He could pretty much guess why, a guess that was confirmed as Victor made his way awkwardly up the stairs, clearly finding it difficult to walk. When he came back down he flushed red, “I’ll be staying in London. My office has always been mobile. Kirk has room for me.”

Sherlock raised an eyebrow but said nothing. John looked at Victor, “I’ll send Kirk my guest list tomorrow. I should have all my answers by then. Victor was still blushing and clearly in a hurry to leave. John hurried him on his way and said goodnight. “Sherlock, check the flat.”

Sherlock got right up and swept the entire flat from top to bottom. He found two surveillance bugs, both from Mycroft. John wasn’t going to say he exactly distrusted Victor Trevor but he really didn’t know him that well. It was better to be safe than sorry, especially since they had some faceless bad guy gunning for them. Sherlock went to their room and came back with something in his hand. “John I have something I want you to try.”

Sherlock handed John something dainty and sheer. John held it up. It was the tiniest pair of nearly see through white pants John had ever seen. “No.”

“Yes.”

“No!”

“Oh yes.”

“Absolutely NO!”

“If you say yes I’ll wear these.” Sherlock held up two ridiculously see-through stockings complete with elasticized flower decorated bands at the top. John wondered how difficult it would be to get the sheer pants over his raging erection, “Not very” turned out to be the answer. They hugged the doctor’s behind snugly and felt strangely comfortable.

Sherlock allowed John to roll the stockings onto his long smooth legs. John had no idea he had a thing for men in women’s stockings but now Sherlock’s legs went on for miles, they were so shapely and firm that John couldn’t stop himself from worshiping them from the tips of Sherlock’s pointed toes all the way up to his narrow hips.

John made love to his fiancé. He kissed Sherlock all over until he was gasping and moaning. When John took Sherlock the tall man wrapped his stocking covered legs tight around John’s waist, hooking his ankles together, “We’re getting you heels!” gasped John as he drove himself deep into his lover. Sherlock nodded, his face flushed and almost pained looking. When John orgasmed he could feel Sherlock’s stocking covered feet pressing into his ass as the detective shook and groaned beneath the doctor. John made Sherlock keep the stockings on after he cleaned them both up and ran his hands up and down Sherlock’s long lovely leg until both men drifted off to sleep.

 


	21. Party Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kirk has a party waiting for them so Sherlock and John follow his request and dress appropriately.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At some point you are going to want to listen to Katy Perry's "E.T". I'd like to thank Ravenwolf36 for her musical recommendation.

All their cases were solved and their chores were done. Mrs. Hudson had been visited and dinner eaten. After a longer-than-necessary shower John and Sherlock got ready for their bachelor party. It had been very busy for the last few days but John had made sure they’d gotten a reasonable amount of sleep in the meantime and was actually looking forward to the fun. He just had to work himself up to getting into his outfit.

John was bare at the moment. Entirely bare. Sherlock had shaved John all over and the doctor had never felt so strange. He missed his body hair already and ran his hands over flesh that now felt foreign as well as unfamiliar. “It will grow back John, it’s only for tonight.” Sherlock patted John’s bum as he left the bathroom. The detective was also bare but entirely unconcerned about it. He just walked off as if he were fully clothed and completely comfortable. John followed him and was acutely aware of how even the air felt different against his skin now that all the hair was gone. He mourned it for a moment longer.

Using body lotion was fun. Sherlock kept it PG though because they were the guests of honor and despite where they were going it would not do to be late for your BDSM bachelor party because you decided to have sex instead. Once they were both smooth and silky they began to dress each other. That was also fun. Sherlock of course looked natural and amazing in his feminine garb, his long lithe body adapting to a new way of moving easily. Sherlock went all out. He’d gone undercover as a woman before and had practiced how to use his body in a more feminine way. John just looked like a bloke in women’s clothing, unsure and uncomfortable. Sherlock really, really liked it. After what seemed like hours of primping and touch-ups Sherlock finally said, “Time to go John.”

For various reasons both men were wearing deeply hooded cloaks as they left Baker Street. Mycroft had arranged for private cars to drive them around for the night. Sherlock said it was a gift but John privately thought Mycroft was just shielding the family name from talk if word got out that Sherlock was running about town in women’s clothing. Too late, he’d done it a dozen times already.

When they arrived in the club Sherlock and John were greeted immediately by Kirk and Victor who were waiting for them. Kirk was dressed almost conservatively as a fitness instructor except for the push-up padded bra and the high-heeled trainers. John had to look twice but that’s what they were. Trainers with long spiky heels on them just like a cartoon character would wear and the Dom loomed over John. John blinked and shook his head in amazement. Victor was also in a sporting theme, Kirk having dressed him in a smart tennis outfit complete with racquet. Victor was wearing regular tennis shoes though but everything was pink with little yellow lines running crazily all over it and the skirt was ruffled rather than pleated, accentuating Victor’s behind. They were wearing matching socks too.

John and Sherlock faced one another and undid the ties at their throat. With a smile they dramatically pulled the other’s cloak off at the same time and posed for a moment. Kirk was jumping around and clapping and Victor smiled and chuckled. Alice had done a great job.

Sherlock was of course, a detective. Alice had done her research and come up with an outfit that Sherlock had first protested and then gleefully agreed to. He was wearing a deerstalker. It was delicate compared to the one that had been made famous during its five minutes atop Sherlock’s head and Sherlock’s raven curls peeked shyly out from beneath the brim of it in a calculated mess. His face was delicately made up, the makeup applied so that Sherlock’s eyes popped brilliantly even more than they usually did, his skin seemed paler but there was a delicate flush to his cheeks. He had painted those sinful cupid-bow lips a delicate pink to match the pink of his fingernails and even though they couldn’t be seen, his toes.

Alice had reached back in time and brought back a Victorian era coat with a short cape across the shoulder, all the fabric of the outfit matching the plaid of the deerstalker. The cape only went to the bottom of Sherlock’s shoulder-blades which is essentially where his top ended as well. His long muscular arms were bare to the wrist where cufflinks held on cuffs with no sleeves. The cufflinks were shaped into the letter ‘J’. 

Nearly all of Sherlock’s marble torso was exposed, every creamy hard inch of it completely naked until you got to the tiny plaid skirt that pleated around his narrow hips and barely covered his lush behind. Long white opaque stockings covered Sherlock’s legs up to the tops of his thighs, kept in place by wide bands of ruffled covered elastic and his feet were fitted into a dangerous pair of pink patent leather stilettoes with glitter adorned heels. Kirk knew someone who specialized in footwear like this for men and Sherlock had browsed forever before settling on a pair of classic stilettoes. He also loomed tall over John who actually didn’t mind. 

In deference to John’s medical background Alice had fitted John with a tight white corset that wrapped around his chest and laced closed in front. It was edged with pink ribbon and the lacings knotted in the center of John’s flat chest in a poufy bow. The color matched the pink of Sherlock’s lipstick and polish. John’s ribs were accented by delicate pink lace that edged the bottom edge of the corset which also left John’s strong arms bare.

John’s midsection was also as bare as Sherlock’s though he wasn’t so happy with the way the curve of his belly was relentlessly soft, unlike the flat stony planes of Sherlock’s stomach. A tiny pleated skirt wrapped around John’s hips, giving him an arse that was as enticing as Sherlock’s though John refused to believe it. The white skirt was edged with pink ribbon as well and was so short that the white pants that John wore were revealed in flirtatious little hints as he walked. Sherlock had a difficult time leaving the flat because of John’s legs. They were encased in pink stockings topped with a white band of ribbon as well as stocking suspenders made of pink lace. Two tiny bows attached the stockings to the hidden undergarment but John had ignored the request for heels and opted for a pair of white nurses’ shoes, covered in glitter and sparkling. Completing his outfit was a tiny white cap with a small heart in the center and a stethoscope that draped around his neck. Kirk was almost shrieking with thrilled delight.

The only issue John had with the costumes was that now when Sherlock walked his hips rolled to cause the skirt to flirt up and reveal a pair of vibrant purple pants edged with white lace, the material straining to cover Sherlock and only barely succeeding. John didn’t love that but he couldn’t say no, especially after the excited display Sherlock had put on after they received both outfits. All of Sherlock’s bared flesh gave John pause as well. He enjoyed looking at it certainly but he was not pleased with the prospect of everyone else looking at it all night long. Finally John had decided that looks were okay as long as no one touched.

The party was in full swing. The Sherlock/John component was taking place in the last room. “Your brother and his boyfriend have already arrived so have all your ADORABLE army friends. Oh John! I thought I was the one giving you a treat tonight!” Kirk was cooing away as usual as he threaded them through the crowd. They were drawn through the club where the most startling collection of men in drag John had ever seen were drinking and dancing everywhere. He and Sherlock definitely blended in.

They got to the last room. John just stared in stunned amazement. All his mates were there and they had also gone all out! Cheap wigs and hooker outfits abounded as did naughty school-girls in uniform and two of the lads had come as cheerleaders, complete with pom-poms. John burst out laughing. Heads swiveled and smiles broke out. With cheers and wolf-whistles John was greeted by all his old friends, all of them demanding to be admired and teasing John and Sherlock about their outfits. Sherlock’s heels made him so tall now that John’s face was chest level with the man and everyone joshed John about being ‘the little woman’. 

The crowds parted. Mycroft and Greg made their way to them. John just gaped. If he hadn’t recognized Greg John never would have believed that Mycroft Holmes was standing in front of him. Mycroft outshone everyone for glamour. He was wearing a long gold lame gown with deep slits up the narrow skirt that revealed long lengths of creamy flawless legs that ended in simple black pump shoes. The dress was simple, elegant, classy and stunning. Mycroft was wearing a wig that matched the ginger of his actual hair but now crowned his head in a thick curly mass. His makeup, including false eyelashes was lightly applied giving him a flawless complexion, pale and delicate but his lipstick was dark. He looked like a film starlet from the early days of Hollywood.

Lestrade was stunning in an entirely different way. He was wearing a police uniform, or at least, he was wearing something that hinted at being a police uniform if a rather revealing and skimpy one. The first thing John noticed about Greg was how insanely fit he was but that was mostly because so much of him was on display. Much like John’s outfit Greg’s top seemed to be no more than a narrow band that laced around to meet in the middle of his chest. He wore a starched white collar and tie and like Sherlock he had cuffs at his wrists. His skirt was tight and went down to the tops of his thighs, girded by a heavy leather belt that had a baton on one side and a pair of handcuffs on the other. He had high-heeled boots on, they laced up to just below his knee and like everyone else he was shaved bare. His silver black hair was obscured with a rounded bobby helmet with a badge numbered ‘69’. 

Greg and John stared at one another. Their eyes went down and then they went back up again. They looked at one another. “I’ve got better legs.” declared John.

“You wish, my legs are gorgeous!” both men began to laugh and Kirk giggled beside them. “Sherlock, do you have anything to say?”

“Hello Mycroft, hello Lestrade. John does have better legs and a better behind. Mycroft, you look very pretty tonight.” Mycroft rolled his eyes. Sherlock smiled at his brother before draping his arm over John’s shoulder.

“Thank you, dear brother. You look remarkable. John, words escape me.” Mycroft was exquisitely polite but he gave John a calculating look. “John, do you perchance partake of the current selection of games for your mobile?”

Mycroft must know that John did not. John could barely send a text with an attachment. There were loads of things his mobile could do that John never tried. Sherlock was the one who had programed everyone’s number in it for John who couldn’t even figure out how to do that! Sherlock worked his mobile like it owed him money. There wasn’t an untouched part of it; Sherlock had mastered every bit of his mobile. The sexy detective looked at his brother as John just said, “No.”

Mycroft raised an exquisitely shaped eyebrow, “That’s unfortunate. One of my staff members happened upon one I thought you’d very much enjoy.” Mycroft reached into his deceptively realistic cleavage and pulled out a slim mobile. Tapping quickly he pulled up a game and handed the unit to Sherlock.

John and Sherlock studied it side by side for a second. It was a cartoon of some kind. A very tiny blond man seemed to be sitting in the back of a taxi. He was wearing black from head to toe. Every few seconds a text bubble popped up with the words, “Is this a game?” followed with “Not really. Someone kidnapped my boyfriend so I have to kill them.” Cheesy chase music ensued and the taxi seemed to traverse the streets of Paris. Sherlock figured the game out and the goal seemed to be to get the man in black to his location before he killed the driver with a variety of weapons he had hidden on him. It was called “Death Dom”.

“It’s gone viral. The owner is a part-time driver for a taxi company in Paris. He claims the idea just came to him one night for no special reason. He’s made quite a bit of money off of it.” John stared at the game. He’d just blurted the words out to the driver, he hadn’t thought of what he was saying, never thought to tell the man to never say a word or to threaten him. Instead John had just overpaid for the ride and raced to find Sherlock. The detective was now starting the game over and reading the text bubbles carefully.

Jones peeked over Sherlock’s shoulder and saw the game. Within minutes all the soldiers in drag were pulling up “Death Dom” and careening wildly through the streets of Paris, driving through buildings and earning points for every red light they beat as they wove in and out of the aggressive traffic. The Dom made various threats as the game progressed and the faster you got to the destination the higher your final score. It was easy and addictive. John glowered at the game players. “Why is the main character so small?”

Sherlock looked down, way down at John, a loving smile on his face, “He seems just the right size to me.” Sherlock’s eyes were bright and happy the way John loved so dearly and he wondered what had made the taller man so pleased. Sherlock leaned closer and murmured, “Did you really say that John?”

John looked Sherlock directly in his iridescent eyes and nodded. Sherlock’s eyes grew soft and tender, “You little romantic!” John had to laugh at Sherlock’s admiration. The detective kissed John happily and hugged him tightly for a minute. John looked at all his friends still playing the game and had to sigh. There was nothing he could do about that and at least they had no idea it was him.

“Okay, so we’re here, we’re in drag, what now?” John looked around. Everyone seemed to be having a good time already. The music was blasting out and dancers were everywhere. John had no idea what Kirk had planned. John had been to a number of bachelor parties in the past but most of those featured a lot of heavy drinking, visits to strip clubs and some rather cheeky pranks played on the groom-of-the-day.

“Games John, lots and lots of games!” said Kirk. He had a huge grin on and he looked excited. He clapped his hands three times and the party started for real. Kirk had set his club up like a gigantic carnival. There were childish games available all over from fishing ponds to pin-the-tail-on-the-man-dressed-as-a-donkey (it was a poster and it was Kirk in the outfit), there was ring-toss and balloon-darts, hoops, games that rolled, games where you threw, games where you caught but the piece-de-resistance, the item that made Kirk jump up and down until his high-heeled trainers were in danger was the mechanical bull.

“I’ve had this in storage for AGES. It works perfectly, the floor is padded and everything!” John was astounded. He’d heard of mechanical bulls but he had never actually seen one outside of the movies. Sherlock was fascinated.

“How does it work?” Sherlock asked curiously looking over the saddle and peering underneath to look at the mechanisms, not realizing he was exposing his barely clad behind to the appreciative masses behind him. John moved and stood right behind Sherlock to shield him. Most people cut their eyes away from the munificent view but more than one kept their eyes firmly on Sherlock’s glorious behind.

“We have the control panel over there, you get up like this,” Kirk demonstrated by swinging himself effortlessly into the padded saddle. His long legs wrapped tightly and with a nod at the person at the control panel the unit began to move. It was slow, gentle and every single move Kirk made was filled with innuendo. John was laughing by the end because Kirk was just so over-the-top about everything he did and even Sherlock was giggling a bit. It was an instant hit and before long there was a huge queue of men who wanted to give it a go, first in line were of course John’s friends. 

“Johnny! I bet we ride this baby longer than your man boyo!” this was from a rather plump ex-officer who went by the nickname Donut for reasons he would only grin about. He was one of the men dressed as a cheerleader, his pot-belly shamelessly hanging over the front of his tiny skirt. Thankfully he was also wearing shorts beneath it so John wasn’t too traumatized when Donut clambered aboard the second Kirk got off. The game was on.

Donut lasted only eight seconds which he claimed was just long enough if you were in the right place but everyone jeered and cheered the next man on. The soldiers tried their best but most of them had never even been on a horse never mind a bucking mechanical bull so one at a time they bruised their dignities as they were thrown off the saddle and into the heavy padding that covered the floor beneath them. They laughed every time and the drink flowed freely.

John was in a lovely alcoholic haze by the time it was Sherlock’s turn. They’d been given one of Kirk’s potent shots after every few men had fallen and even with taking their time between drinks John was already well on his way to being plastered. Sherlock wasn’t much better since he rarely drank. He was now swaying in time with the music that blasted out but slightly out of synch with the beat as if he couldn’t quite catch it. Tossing back a final shot Sherlock grabbed John, kissed him soundly and teetered on his stilettoes over to the mechanical bull.

John flumped down to the convenient sofa behind him when Sherlock cast a long shapely leg easily over the bull, mounting it as if he did this every single day. The mechanism kicked in the second he was seated but Sherlock merely tightened his thighs, locking himself into place. One hand on the pommel and the other in the air Sherlock rode the mechanical bull like he was a part of it.

Everyone was stunned and staring. The operator began to get creative but no matter how he made Sherlock whip and buck he stayed firmly seated in the saddle, a laugh on his lips as he was tested. Finally three full minutes had gone by. The operator stopped the bull and Sherlock dismounted with a flirtatious kick of his leg, landing gracefully on the padding. With a devilish grin he strode over to John and planted another firm kiss on his lover’s mouth. A huge round of cheers erupted and John sat there with a foolish and proud grin on his face, “You are amazing!”

“You keep saying that.” said Sherlock with a small blush. John kissed Sherlock. His lover was now kneeling in front of John so their faces were level.

“It’s true every time.” Sherlock’s blush grew rosier and he bit his lip, “Let’s dance.” John stood up and helped Sherlock to his feet. Without a glance at anyone else John and Sherlock went to the dance floor and began to move. It was fun. The beat was lively and they were surrounded by happy faces. The games were continuing all around them and it really was like being at a crazy sort of carnival filled with drag queens.

It was a great night. Kirk had somehow managed to make everything work together in perverse cadence. Childish games mixed with the heavily suggestive outfits added up to a lot of laughter and great memories being made by all who enjoyed the night with them. John had stopped drinking after the mechanical bull and had been sipping soda to quench his thirst instead. Sherlock had caved twice more to Kirk’s offer of shots but then had switched wisely to water. They were already drunk and had no intention of being as miserable as they had been last time.

They rested on the sofas, surrounded by an ever changing crowd of people. John was discussing their home life with his old friends, “Toes, I’m telling you, human toes. In the ice cube tray. One in each little pocket thingy like novelty ice cubes. I had one in my glass before I realized what Sherlock had done. Now I check everything three times before I use it, just in case. Put me off iced drinks for ages.”

They were surrounded by an equal mix of fascinated and horrified faces. “I would have thrown the ice cube tray away.” said Kirk with a grimace and John just laughed.

Looking over John grinned and said, “Mate, I’d have nothing left in our flat if I threw away everything Sherlock has contaminated with his experiments. Between toxic mould outbreaks or the weird noxious gas experiment, or that time he blew up the Hoover doing the dust relocation experiment, or the day I came home to find three plumbers working on the bog, he won’t explain that one, anyway, you develop a tolerance after a bit.”

Mycroft looked down at John, a mild sneer on his face, “It seems to me that you have tolerated much right from the very first day.”

“He didn’t even move out the day he found a human head in the refrigerator,” reported Sherlock, “Saliva experiment. I was swept off my feet by his bravery and fortitude.”

John’s friends and several BDSM couples were crowding around and listening to them talk. Many people shook their heads in disbelief but the Greg jumped in, “What did he do with that bag of human hands John?”

“You don’t want to know. Seriously, some things you just don’t ask about. He’s a mad scientist, you know that Lestrade. Someday I fully expect to find him on the roof of our building waiting for a lightning strike to power his insane experiments. I mean really, that’s exactly what it’s like.” That comment had the lads just howling. They loved the idea of having a mad scientist among them. Someone mentioned The Science of Deduction and suddenly there were crowds of drunken party goers typing in queries into Sherlock’s site, everyone thrilled and full of compliments for Sherlock.

One couple in particular seemed very interested in getting to know the both of them better. The taller of the two dressed as Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz eyed Sherlock rather openly and John scowled. The shorter one had wings on and a puffy blue yet still incredibly short dress. John decided that was enough for one evening. He wanted to go home but just then Kirk announced it was time for the dance demonstration. What?

“Come on John! You and Sherlock will burn the floor up. I’ve got a song all picked out for you.” Kirk dragged them out to the center of the dance floor unmindful of John’s less-than-perfect coordination at the moment. Sherlock seemed to be holding up well, his focus on not falling off his heels keeping him from swaying the way he might have been tempted to otherwise. Once they were dead center Kirk made everyone clear off a bit and cued the lights and the music. Katy Perry’s voice floated over the crowd as a display of twinkling stars and colored strobes cut the club into small pictures. The song was “E.T” and both John and Sherlock had heard it before. John grinned as Sherlock compensated for his heels. He needed to be lower than they allowed him so he dropped his hips down to ride John’s thigh. One hand on the back of each other’s necks John took control of the dance and they moved.

The club disappeared as John and Sherlock really listened to the lyrics as they danced to the beat. The song was broken every now and then as the guest performer added his bit to the song but it was the woman’s lines that rang the deepest for the two lovers.

John looked up at Sherlock, the very first piece of the song gripping him; Sherlock was always both sides of the great détente for John. Sherlock looked down at John and knew he was the one who made the light in his life even possible. Both men smiled at the word ‘abduction’ and John kissed Sherlock every time he heard the word ‘alien’ knowing that Sherlock did not accept that John found him beautiful. Sherlock kissed John’s forehead when the woman sang of good fortune. Sherlock didn’t need to believe in luck. He knew the ratio between the amount of times things could have gone poorly for him vs the amount of times John had accompanied and saved him, it was conclusive proof that being together was absolutely necessary.

John loved his Sherlock and Sherlock loved his John. Everyone in the club could see that as the two men danced, oblivious to anyone and anything around them. They existed in their own little world, one made for only each other. The smile they shared and the look in their eyes told anyone who could see that these two men belonged with the other, body and soul. It wasn’t until the last note died away and John was being rather thoroughly kissed by Sherlock that they became aware of the thunderous applause around them. Everyone had watched them dance and neither of them had noticed.

Sherlock waved coquettishly at everyone and John laughed with the rest as Sherlock winked cheekily at Mycroft. John suddenly felt that enough people had taken a good close look at his lover. He was still fairly drunk, that dance had been terrific and his skirt was way too short to be concealing the rapidly arriving evidence of his intentions towards the leggy detective. Sliding his arm around that hard narrow waist John gave Sherlock a little squeeze, “I need to take you home.”

“Thank god.” Sherlock just took John’s hand and led him away, giving farewells to no one. It didn’t seem to trouble anyone since Kirk’s servers were going around with yet another tray of toxic shot. They got their cloaks and raced out of the club to their waiting car. John forced himself to keep his hands off his lover for the trip, barring their joined hands. Sherlock was breathing heavily and the trip seemed to take forever.

They were in a haze of arousal before they even got to their front door. Once they were inside John made sure to relock it carefully because he certainly did not want to be interrupted. Sherlock nearly dragged John upstairs. He yanked the doctor right through the living room, their bedroom door slamming firmly behind them. Soon there was silence broken only by the moans and giggles of two men deeply in love.

Neither of them noticed something sitting on their coffee table, an innocuous something. It was an apple and it was resting on a piece of paper. There was nothing ominous about apples, John liked them and always kept a bowl of them in safer part of the kitchen to munch on when he felt like having a snack. It wouldn’t be until late the next morning that the apple would be discovered but for tonight, the two men in the room were wrapped up in only one another and the world did not exist.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't forget the smut....it's on baby.


	22. Seeing Red

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their bachelor party was a lot of fun but John has Sherlock at home now...

As soon as the door to their bedroom closed John toed off his ridiculously sparkling shoes, nearly falling over as he did so. They had been comfortable but all he wanted right now was strip off everything that was getting between him and Sherlock. Sherlock was kissing John hungrily, stooping down on his insanely high heels to press his mouth against his lover’s. Both men swayed dangerously to one side and then the other. 

Sherlock’s fingers fumbled with the bow at John’s chest but somehow he still managed to get it undone. Nearly tearing the laces off Sherlock threw the small corset all the way across the room as John shimmied out of his tight skirt. “Keep the stockings on!” ordered Sherlock.

“Okay but then I can’t take my pants off.” panted John. His stocking girdle was ripped right off his hips, his stockings yanked off and his pants entirely missing only seconds later. John helped Sherlock out by tugging his pants off, consigning them to the same destination as John’s corset. Both men giggled as they got rid of one thing after another. “You keep yours on, shoes too.”

Sherlock nodded, he didn’t seem to care. Now that his pants were off Sherlock seemed to feel naked enough and pushed John down to the bed. One stabbed foot later John pushed back and made Sherlock strip everything off. As soon as they were both completely naked John plucked a nearly hidden microdot out of Sherlock’s hair and Sherlock did John the same favor and removed his. Both of them were carefully set on the side-table to be used later.

John then had the pleasure of experiencing Sherlock’s wicked tongue lap over every square inch of his shaved flesh. Sherlock was insatiably curious and compared textures and flavors as he went, delaying the moment before he finally took John into his mouth. Both men moaned, “John you really are the most delicious person in the world, one of these days I’m going to see how long I can make it last….not tonight though.”

Sherlock left off which made John the tiniest bit grumpy but only for a heartbeat. John’s head was still spinning from the drinks they’d had and he wanted to sleep but he was so aroused! Sherlock had grabbed the lube and knelt between John’s hips with a wicked grin. John smiled and let himself be spread wide, “You like topping.” he remarked as Sherlock began to prepare him.

The taller man nodded, “It feels good, almost like I’m in control but I’m not. You are, always.” John smiled because that was exactly the right answer. John reached over and pulled Sherlock’s leather collar from the drawer. Obediently Sherlock extended his neck and bent low enough for John to buckle it on. “Thank you John.”

Sherlock continued. He prepared John slowly, tenderly. John was so comfortable that he nearly dozed off more than once while Sherlock teased him. The taller man made great effort to keep John right on edge the entire time, right until he sank himself deep into the doctor and pulled his strong legs tight around his narrow waist, “John!” Sherlock’s face was heavily flushed and he was perspiring heavily. John pushed against Sherlock and heard the man above him moan deeply. Moving his hips just enough John allowed Sherlock to re-enter at John’s leisure and not his. He forced himself to keep his eyes open; he couldn’t let himself fall asleep in the middle of sex! Sherlock would never forgive him!

Scooping John close to his body Sherlock rolled them over until John was sitting astride the taller man and moving easily. John smiled down at Sherlock who looked unfocused but rapt. John took Sherlock apart. John bit and licked everywhere he could reach to keep himself awake. His hips never stopped moving but blooms of red appeared on Sherlock’s shoulders, chest and neck. It felt so good but John was so tired. John braced himself and allowed Sherlock to wrap his hard fingers around him, stroking hard and fast. It was going to be a race between John passing out or coming first. He bravely soldiered on for a minute more but it was hopeless. With a deep groan John allowed himself to release, spending himself completely as Sherlock choked out a garbled declaration of love and simply shook beneath John before collapsing.

John was pleasantly sore and tired now. His head was spinning with drink and the tendrils of his orgasm. With barely a swipe at the mess John crumbled to Sherlock’s side. Holding one another both men just fell asleep where they were.

John regretted not taking the time to drink more water before they had sex. He woke with a throbbing head but at least his stomach wasn’t screaming at him. The room reeked of sex and stale alcohol, not a pretty combination and state which a sleeping Sherlock promptly worsened. John scampered out of the room, leaving the door open lest Sherlock asphyxiate.

John used the bathroom and took some pain killers, drinking straight out of the tap until he couldn’t swallow another drop. He banged his head on the tap when Sherlock’s hand clapped to his shoulder unexpectedly. Without a word Sherlock just stood there to pee forever. He had to hold himself up by the end, clearly as miserable feeling as John. “We’re not meant to drink.” groaned the doctor. Sherlock carefully nodded his head as he finally flushed and then washed his hands. John gave him two painkillers as well and Sherlock also drank out of the tap like he was a camel in the desert.

They needed tea so silently they went to the kitchen. Sherlock held his head and rested his elbows on the table. John made tea as quietly as he could because his ears hurt and his eyes felt weird. Sherlock sidled his chair closer and closer until he was sitting right next to John so John leaned on him for support while the tea brewed. When it was done they sat side by side, holding hands and just sipping until the first round was done and John was emotionally prepared to make a second cup for each of them. They sipped that too.

Finally they felt slightly better and decided to relocate to the sofa where it was soft and relatively dimmer than the kitchen. Fresh cups in hand John led the way but stopped cold, causing Sherlock to bounce into his back and slop his hot tea onto his fingers. “Shit!” swore Sherlock who quickly wiped his hand off on his robe. John didn’t move. Sherlock finally looked over John’s shoulder.

They looked at the apple. It had been very neatly sliced, almost surgically so. Skin and flesh had been removed until the words “U Owe Me” remained in red peel while the rest of the apple was browned and shriveled looking. It was sitting on a piece of paper that had five score marks slashed into it. The letter “J” was scored into the paper as well.

“What? What does it mean? J? For John, is this about me?” John asked. He had a sick sinking feeling that had nothing to do with being hung over. The last time they’d seen an apple like this it had been from Moriarty, “J for Jim? James Moriarty?”

Sherlock shook his head, “John it can’t possibly be. You and I both know it can’t possibly be from Moriarty! We made sure of that, together!” John had to sit down. He felt nauseated and Sherlock simply clung to him. “You know I’ll do anything it takes to protect you John, absolutely anything at all. It can’t be Moriarty so either the note is directed directly at you or we have a new enemy with the initial “J” so we need to figure it out.”

“We owe them what? Five what? Who could this be and why now?” they had no time to think because John’s mobile rang, “Lestrade? We’re kind of….what? When? Send the address, we’ll be there as soon as we can.”

Sherlock groaned, “I don’t want to go out! I feel horrible.”

“Vladimir and Carl have been kidnapped. They were taken before our party yesterday. Kirk received a message and it’s for us. Everyone is waiting for us at Carl’s apartment.” John’s mobile chirped as he received Lestrade’s text. “Come on, we have to go, now.”

Their heads still pounded and John wished they’d had time for at least some dry toast but they needed to go. Every minute wasted was one Vladimir and Carl might not have to spend. Dressing comfortably John pocketed his gun, stuck Sherlock’s microdot back in and let his lover place his as well. John even strapped a sharp knife nestled inside a heavy holster to Sherlock’s ankle. They were taking no chances. Deciding prudence was in order John grabbed a packet of crackers and two apples as well as a couple of bottles of water with him as he followed Sherlock out the door.

Half an hour later they were standing in the hallway of a moderately decent apartment building. Carl’s door was wide open so Lestrade allowed Sherlock and John to enter while Kirk, Victor and Greg stood in the doorway to watch. Kirk was wide-eyed and Victor kept his eyes glued on John and Sherlock.

They paced back and forth together, both pairs of eyes seeing the same things differently. Sherlock noted scratches on the door knob, a bottle of wine on the counter, embroidered sofa cushions on the floor and a host of other tiny details that played the scene back for him like he had been there. After they’d looked hard at the scene Kirk played the message he’d received. It was a video clip of Carl and he was crying. “Sherlock, you and John are being invited to play a game. Vladimir and I are the prize. If you find us in time you win. If not the game begins again with a new prize. You have twenty four hours and your first clue is this.” 

A picture of a graveled surface appeared. John wanted to vomit. “That’s the roof of St. Bart’s.” he choked out. He’d never forget what that roof looked like. John had gone up there one time after Sherlock had faked his death and it had made him so ill he nearly collapsed. 

“I’m sorry John but we have to go.” Sherlock did sound sorry. He looked miserable because he knew how much his faked death had hurt John and how much John was hurting again because of the shocking reminder. Sherlock also knew that John would not shrink away simply because it devastated him. He was too good a man, too honorable to turn his back on someone who needed him.

“Let’s go Sherlock. Greg, take these two back home. We’ll text with the next bit of news.” John and Sherlock started to walk away but Victor cried out.

“No way! You two can’t possibly go by yourselves! You need help, backup. Something.” Victor looked around for someone to support his statement. Lestrade looked over to Victor, his brows crinkling.

“Mate do you know who you’re talking about? Sherlock and John don’t need backup. I’ll send people after them to clean up but these two can handle just about anything. If you know someone who is more skilled than these two, feel free to send them along but otherwise, we’re just holding them back. Now, come along and I’ll get the two of you home.”

“No! Victor is right. They need help. Vladimir is a friend of mine and Carl is the sweetest man in the world. If we can help, well, we should help.” Kirk was trying to be brave but this really wasn’t his thing and he looked nervous.

John shook his head, “It’s going to get ugly at some point Kirk and we can’t save Vladimir and Carl if we’re protecting you as well. We’ll be fine. We always are.”

“Except when we aren’t but hospital food isn’t that bad and John is a doctor so we very often get to go home much earlier than you’d think. We’ll promise to try not to die. Mummy would be so upset if our wedding was cancelled due to funerals.” Sherlock winked at Victor who looked stunned and horrified but Greg just laughed.

“Don’t you dare leave me hanging Watson! Mummy is having us all over for dinner next week so BE ALIVE. I’m giving you two hours and then I’m calling Myc.” Two hours, well it wasn’t much but it was what they had to work with. John nodded and without a backward glance they left everyone behind.

It didn’t take long to get to St. Bart’s. When they made it to the roof it was empty. John texted Lestrade immediately. After the message was sent he and Sherlock paced back and forth, searching for the next clue. They found it mixed into the gravel. It was a bolt, one that Sherlock recognized. “The docks are old. Some of the buildings have parts to them that are decades, sometimes centuries old. The bolts were hand-forged and often you could tell which craftsman made which piece of metalwork. I know this one. Come along John, we have to get a taxi, now.”

They went to the water and got the taxi to drop them off a discrete distance from a collection of warehouses. Checking everything out as much as they were able both men crept ahead. John stopped Sherlock from stepping into a puddle that had a clever trap hidden in it. A nearly invisible string lay in it; if Sherlock had stepped on it he would have triggered the trap. Carefully they made their way beyond it and continued to approach with caution.

John spotted several more traps. He guided Sherlock delicately around all of them, both men nearly silent as they ghosted their way deeper into the complex. Sherlock picked the lock on a side-door, the rusted metal protesting softly but eventually giving way. John pulled the door open carefully, looking inside with quick peeks to determine where they were going. It was an empty room so he led Sherlock inside. It was dim but light enough for John to see the way was clear. 

They made their way further and further into the warehouse until they’d checked all the offices one at a time and were now heading to the loading bays. There were five armed men there as well as Vladimir and Carl. Vladimir was bound to the floor in chains but Carl was strapped to a table and his back was bleeding. He’d been whipped, savagely. John’s heart turned to stone. He felt and heard the snick of the knife coming out of its holster as he and Sherlock readied themselves to attack.

John and Sherlock crept soundlessly up to their foes. Vladimir spotted them and immediately looked away. One of the men raised his whip to strike Carl one more time and John shot him right in the head. John was merciless, especially when a different man tried to shoot the helpless Vladimir in the head. Calmly John killed the man and then shot two of the others in the thighs in short order while Sherlock made a mess out of the fifth one. He died gurgling and John felt satisfied.

John went right to Carl, untying him and examining the lash marks. He called Lestrade and gave him a quick update, “We need an ambulance and tell trauma to get a surgery prepped. We have a body count that’s rising fast so maybe two ambulances but no rush on the second one.”

John went over to the bleeding man closest to him, “Relax, I’m a doctor. Now, this is going to sound terrible but, who do you work for?”

“We don’t work for anyone!” declared the man. John just huffed out an impatient breath.

“You work for someone. You are all clearly highly disposable because anyone who really knows us knew better than to let either Sherlock or myself anywhere within killing distance. You were used mate, now, who do you work for?” The man looked furious and turned his face away to look at his bleeding compatriot. He wasn’t bleeding anymore. He was dead. “FUCK! I don’t know what her name is. She goes by the code name Rouge and she always wears red. I don’t know what she looks like; she always has a mask on. She’s fucking scary alright?”

“Scarier than a sociopath and a man who just killed three people in less than five minutes, four if things with your leg go badly.” Sherlock was smiling grimly down at the man who was certainly bleeding to death. John found he had no pity for anyone. These men were cockroaches. You killed some but there were hundreds more just lurking out of sight. Whoever this Rouge woman was, she had officially pissed off Captain John Hamish Watson.

“Holmes, she’s scarier than you and your soldier combined. I’m grateful to be dying. I don’t want to go back. She’s coming for….” the man had breathed his last and once again John only felt regret for the answers he did not have.

“Well I’m going to say it’s a given Rouge is coming for us, but why?” mused Sherlock, the detective texted his brother. A minute later his phone rang and Sherlock had a quick conversation with Mycroft in code. Sherlock turned to John after ending the call, “Lestrade’s team has been cancelled. Mycroft’s team will handle this. The code name triggered Mycroft’s alarms. We’d better get home.”

They left after assuring a dazed Vladimir that help would be there in mere minutes. Mycroft arranged for a taxi to pick them up a few blocks away and they went straight to Baker Street. John sighed when they saw the familiar bricks of their home, “At least Mrs. Hudson is at her sister’s again. I swear she lives half the year there.”

“I need a shower and even some food. I feel hungry finally.” Sherlock looked tired. They hadn’t eaten all day and their adrenaline rush was wearing off. John was suddenly acutely aware of all his creaks and aches.

“We’ll order in.” promised John as they trudged up the stairs. Pushing their way through the door John was entirely surprised to find a small pistol aimed right between his eyes. “Fuck.”

“Well hello Doctor Watson. I’ve been waiting so long to meet you.” A woman in a long red dress was sitting regally on their sofa. John recognized her from Kirk’s club. He’d met her twice. Once on the very first night they’d gone and she was also the bitch who had touched Sherlock! The pistol was being held by the same man John had seen at their bachelor party, the one dressed as Dorothy. He could have kicked himself. If he hadn’t been so distracted with everything else he would have noticed there was something strange about him but at that party, well, maybe it wasn’t so difficult to believe John had missed it.

John cut his eyes to the side. The man dressed as a fairy was there too and he had a pistol aimed right at Sherlock’s head. John’s blood boiled and adrenaline dumped into his system again. Sherlock could NOT be in danger right in their own home! John wouldn’t stand for it! He glared down at the woman, hating her stupid dress and the whole color motif. It was dumb and only villains in the movies did weird things like that. Moriarty was a villain and he’d just worn a regular suit. “Who the fuck are you?”

“I’m a lot of things Doctor Watson but right at the moment I’m the person who has your life in her hands. I have a little something to tell you. Sit.” John didn’t want to but he was forced into his chair and Sherlock was seated across from him. With a sharp crack the man struck Sherlock hard, knocking him out. John didn’t take his eyes off the woman who merely smiled and didn’t even look toward Sherlock’s now limp frame.

She was pretty, dark of hair and dusky of skin. Her eyes were bright and her smile was friendly. She was ageless, she could have been sixty or even only thirty, John couldn’t tell. Under any other circumstances she would have been worthy of some of John’s better chat up lines but right now all John wanted to do is see if the blood in her body matched the shade of red on her dress. “What do you want?”

“Sherlock, I’ve had my eye on him for a long time. He would have been a perfect addition to my stable but you quite ruined him Doctor Watson. Sherlock used to be a perfect mess. I made the mistake of waiting a little too long for his addiction to set in. Instead the foolish boy got over it and began to work. He met you and stayed clean. That didn’t make me happy but I did find use for you after a while.” Her voice was pleasant and had a faint Irish lilt to it.

“Who the fuck are you lady? Why do you want Sherlock? For what?” John didn’t really like the idea of killing another woman but if he had to in order to save Sherlock, he would do it. Mary was proof of that. Rouge smiled her little smile and John hated her all the more.

“I’m a trainer Doctor Watson. I discovered at a very young age that I had a special talent. It’s quite startling how much free time an aristocratic young child has when their parents are always abroad. Staff are easily bribed. I learned to do as I wished and it was easy. My talent, you see, is finding a certain type of person and teaching them to let go of everything that hampers them. I create chaos because it is perfect. I like doing it and though I started off rich I am now infinitely richer for the work I so enjoy. You’ve met my pets.”

“Oh god. Not…” John could not stop himself from speaking. It couldn’t be.

“Oh yes Doctor Watson. Mary. Of course that was not her real name anymore than Lasa is my real name, but only I know what those really are. She was lovely wasn’t she? There was also James. Oh he was special. I miss him. He played a good game but he wasn’t good enough for Sherlock was he? He did have a thing for you. Now that we meet I can see a bit of the appeal. You are a bit of a biter, aren’t you?”

“Why would you do that? Make people be like that?” John was aghast. What kind of person was sitting in front of him? Rouge just shrugged.

“I was bored and it entertained me. The world is so boring. James understood that. He was as bored as I was. Sherlock is interesting. James almost killed both of you right after he’d met you, do you remember Doctor? The pool?” the woman smiled sweetly and John felt like being sick all over again.

The Semtex vest and the pool. Someone had called Moriarty just as John and Sherlock were about to die. Rouge nodded as John put it together.

“That’s right Doctor Watson. I stopped him. That wasn’t the plan and James always did have such a difficult time sticking with a plan. He was always so….changeable, I believe that’s how he described himself. He was mad. Wonderfully and beautifully mad. Sherlock could have been as beautiful but then you came along.”

“So you’re going to kill me then?” John’s heart sank. Sherlock would be destroyed to learn of John’s death. John couldn’t bear the idea of the grief Sherlock would feel and knew that the detective would not live long without him. The world would be deprived of Sherlock Holmes and that just wasn’t right.

“No Doctor Watson. I just wanted you to know what happened to Sherlock. I’m not completely heartless. I’m going to take tender care of you so you live as long as possible. I’ll make sure you never want for anything because for as long as you live Sherlock will do anything I ask. I’ll use your love for him as a lever forever and he will be so beautiful. There’s nothing he wouldn’t do for you John so there is nothing he wouldn’t do for me. Think of the chaos Sherlock Holmes can bring to the world. Everything, absolutely everything will be beautiful. Goodnight Doctor Watson.”

Everything went black.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's the beginning of the end my friends....what will happen? How will John find Sherlock? Will they ever get a chance to be together again?


	23. Retrieval

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All John wanted to do was go home but instead his boyfriend was kidnapped and John was knocked unconscious. He's not waking up happy.

John woke to the unpleasant sight of Mycroft’s face. John knew that his flat had been bugged – again. The doctor was lying out on the sofa and his head felt like it was split in two, he was starving and at the same time he wanted to be ill even as rage flooded through him. John sat right up and nearly vomited, “Where is he?” John demanded. Sherlock’s clothes, pants and all, were neatly folded on the coffee table right in front of John. Rouge had stripped him and taken him naked!

“We don’t know Doctor Watson. My team got here minutes too late. My cameras caught her but our response team failed to intercept before she left the city limits.” Fucking Mycroft and fuck his endless spying! What good was it? John closed his eyes at Mycroft’s flat words and took stock of himself. John’s head ached fiercely and he couldn’t think clearly. He needed food. He needed his gun. He probably needed a hospital but what John really needed to do, John needed to find Sherlock.

It had been too long since he’d eaten last so John made his way to the kitchen where Anthea was putting together a small meal. Two paracetamols were by a glass of water so John took them. Then John sat down and Anthea joined him. Mobile in hand she reported what they knew as John ate his way through a hearty but tiny breakfast. He couldn’t allow himself to collapse from hunger. Sherlock needed him. 

John’s head made him feel woozy but he ignored it and paid attention to Anthea, “Code name Rouge, also known as Lasa, also known as Lilith. No direct confirmation of any information collected on her until today. We caught everything on camera. If we can catch her we can easily prosecute. She was spotted leaving here with three people, one unconscious identified as Sherlock. We tracked her vehicle to the edge of the city but beyond the CCTV system we have lost them. They were heading north but have likely not only changed their vehicle but have also changed their direction.”

John now remembered something more useful than how much his head hurt and pulled out his mobile setting it down in front of Anthea. “Sherlock has his microdot on. We can track him using this. Get on it. Now. I’m showering, changing and then I’m leaving.” John did exactly that. He needed to lay down for a couple of days considering what a blow to the head he’d had. This would have to suffice as recovery time instead. He took a five minute shower to wake himself up and sooth his head a bit, got into a pair of his most ridiculous pants that had multi-colored happy faced balloons printed all over it as well as a jumper and his jeans. John packed a small selection of clean clothes for Sherlock into an overnight bag, including his matching socks before making his way back to Mycroft who had been sitting there ignored. “How long was I out?”

“Four hours. We could not move until you woke. By the time we got here their vehicle was already beyond our scope. I needed to know what you know.” Mycroft looked up and John and his eyes were fierce. “He’s my only brother John. Never doubt that I will use every resource at my disposal to find him.”

Anthea came into the room and handed John his mobile. Expressionlessly the solider glanced at it and then held it out to Mycroft. Sherlock’s location twinkled cheekily. He was just outside London. John smiled grimly, “How quickly can you get me here Mycroft?”

Mycroft looked….impressed. He cut his eyes to Anthea who was already moving to the door, thumbs flying over her mobile as she texted furiously. Without another word all of them left Baker Street. "Are you going to call Greg?” asked John who was holding Sherlock’s Belstaff. Sherlock would need it. The soldier dug through the many pockets and transferred a couple of small items to his own. 

“Not his division.” replied Mycroft. He was opening a side panel on the door and extracting a neat selection of small shining weapons. Anthea took a small hand-gun and a rather wicked looking knife. John politely turned his face away as she strapped on a thigh holster and tugged her skirt back down. He had his handgun but accepted a knife as well, merely clipping it to the waist of his jeans. “Rouge triggered the highest levels of my security net. All discretion has been granted for this venture. You will of course never mention this in your blog, Doctor Watson.”

“Mention what Mycroft? It’s just another ordinary day.” John smiled grimly out the window and breathed slowly, his headache fading as adrenaline rushed through him. His body relaxed and tensed at the same time. John’s posture changed and before they had driven more than a few blocks Doctor John Watson was entirely gone and Captain Watson was focused and ready. John stayed calm, distracting himself with images of Sherlock and the things they’d done together.

The day they had chased ducks out of a park because one of the birds was a rare species that was about to be trapped by a collector. Sherlock had fallen into the duck pond and didn’t care how many strange looks he’d gotten on the Tube when they went home. He’d had a piece of bull-rush in his hair and John had thought it looked rather sweet so he didn’t mention it the entire ride back.

There was the time that Sherlock blew up the kitchen in an attempt to innocently make dinner. He’d forgotten an experiment in the oven and had switched it on. The repairs had been mostly completed by the time John had gotten home from work and Sherlock had ordered out.

The time John had come back from a horrible visit with Harry and Sherlock had diverted him with a game of Cluedo where the detective cheated constantly and argued childishly until both of them were laughing so hard they could barely see.

Just a few memories from the rich storehouse of them that John kept in his own mind palace. There were millions of small moments and John cherished all of them. With a fond smile at the thought of his mad-man John glanced over at Anthea and Mycroft, both who looked edgy and tense. He smiled, “He’ll be fine.”

“Will you be fine?” asked Mycroft. He looked concerned because he was seeing John clearly for the first time and realizing that maybe Sherlock wasn’t the maddest person to live at 221 B Baker Street. John wanted to laugh because it had taken Mycroft so very long to come to this realization. One didn’t attract and keep the attentions of someone like Sherlock Holmes because you were safe or sane. No. Sherlock had seen the real John the very first minute and understood that he was a kindred spirit.

“If we end up in the hospital again I want to share a room. I don’t like leaving Sherlock with strangers.” John might as well deal with the potential details now. Goodness knew they did end up in hospital a silly amount of times but that was all just part of it. John smiled at the scenery. It was a lovely day, warm but not too bright out. You had to appreciate the little things.

“Very well.” agreed Mycroft amiably. Anthea was shooting discrete glances at John and for the first time she actually also looked impressed with the unassuming doctor. He smiled back at her and laughed when he remembered the first time he’d seen Anthea. That was also the first day he’d met Mycroft. It seemed like such a long time ago but the PA looked exactly the same as she had back then.

“Teams are in position.” reported Anthea and Mycroft nodded. They looked at John as if he needed to prepare in some way.

“What! I’m ready. Are we there yet?” There was no point in working himself up before they got there. John was cool and steady, his heart beating evenly as he breathed easily. Their car was pulling into a long winding driveway. It was paved with cobbles to make a regular pattern. The house they approached was all stone with great vast windows all around it. There was no one in sight.

“Interior count has been estimated at thirty bodies.” reported Anthea yet again and John nodded. That was a lot of dead people but what could you do? He had to get Sherlock back. The front-doors were glass too, a fact that was incredibly convenient because the door was locked with a rather hard to pick lock. The decorative rocks on the sidewalk were however very easy to pick up and throw through the doors which were then of course very simple to use. Alarms failed to go off and Death walked in.

For some reason henchmen preferred hand-to-hand combat. John had noted the tendency time and again. If he were them he’d have shot John on sight but they weren’t so one at a time they came at him. The first man made the mistake of thinking that John wasn’t dangerous with only a knife in hand. It got slippery quickly. John was comfortable using his blade and he wasn’t being kind about it. His head hurt so much and these people kept stabbing at him! 

John had a lot of bullets but they were in a hallway at the moment and it hurt his ears to shoot in a closed space. With a headache like he’d had before John didn’t want to induce a migraine so he got rid of his enemies in a slightly quieter fashion. John knew he felt no pain now but he’d pay the toll later when he had the time. John was aware of Mycroft and Anthea fighting by his side as they gutted their way further and further into the house but he was focused on getting to the other end of the small group that tried to stop them. By the time they got to the end of the hallway ten people were dead and John refused to recognize which were men and which were women. Half the bodies were on the floor because of him but he didn’t feel bad about that. All of them had tried to kill him and all of them were keeping John from Sherlock.

John kicked his way into a room. It was elegant, filled with graceful furnishings and lightly scented from vast bouquets of flowers that stood in tall vases everywhere. Rouge was standing against a far wall, the rest of her people crowded around her. Her dress made her stand out garishly in the soft pastels of the room and the dramatics that had worked so well in the complex darkness of 221 B just looked cheap and low-budget in the bright light of day. John heard voices calling behind him and suddenly the exterior windows crashed open and Mycroft’s teams moved in. Rouge was horrified. Clearly she had never been compromised before. In a few minutes the people that protected her were disarmed and cuffed.

John walked up to her, his hands still wet with the blood of her people, “Where is he?” Rouge looked away, refusing to answer so John just cupped her face with his bloody hands and turned her eyes back to his. Smearing a warm sticky strip of crimson across her painted lips John asked again softly. “Where is he?”

The person known as Rouge, the woman who had spent her life coaxing psychopaths to bloom, the one who had played behind the scenes in safety for so long looked into the sweet blue eyes of John Hamish Watson and saw the beauty she had been searching for. In the same moment she understood that John was safe from her, immune to her, beyond her. John was only for Sherlock and she could have neither. All of this understanding came in a single blink as did her decision to act, “So beautiful.” she murmured longingly. A flick of her wrist produced a shining blade that sliced toward John’s heart. John had been expecting it and caught her wrist as it descended, her blade cutting through his coat to sting his chest but went no further.

John looked at the woman in front of him. She wanted a grand showdown, a big finish, “No, I don’t think so Red. I think you get to go to boring prison. I’m not even going to kill you though that would be simpler for you, wouldn’t it?” John smiled at the sick expression that crossed her face. Prison would be the worst sort of hell for her. John would tell Mycroft to ensure she got a room alone so she wouldn’t even have the grudging company of another inmate to entertain her. Let her rot in lonely silence.

“I have money. Power. You could come with me. It would be beautiful, interesting, exciting. I could take you both, Sherlock and you, together.” She tried to look alluring but John felt there was only so much face-powder a body could bear and she had used up her allotment as well as those from one or two other people. The creamy good looks from the night previous clearly needed some heavy maintenance.

“You did not just use such a cheesy line on me! ‘I have money. Power.’ Wow. How in the world did you keep Moriarty interested? You’re boring. You’re like those old cartoon villains, one-dimensional and pointless. Is that how you came up with your whole life plan? Read too many exciting books at an impressionable age?” Rouge snarled at John and tried to spit but he just used her own hand to cover her mouth so she slobbered on herself. Her eyes were tearing and her makeup was making a dash for her chin.

“You can’t make me talk!” she exclaimed and John just laughed. She really did sound like a badly made movie. Clearly she was insane, wrapped in a world where she surrounded herself with people who told her she was terrifying when she was merely incredibly wealthy. She could afford whatever delusions she felt like indulging. “You are chaining him down Doctor Watson. You are keeping him chained down, hidden, stifled. He’s less than he could be because of you. You’ve made him dull, typical and bland. He’ll wither with you Doctor Watson. He’ll wither and die because of you. I could have made him glorious.”

“My therapist told me to write things down, to get it out. You should try it. Then you could see how ridiculous you sound. You don’t have to tell me where he is. I’ll find him. I always do.” John took the knife from her and stepped back to allow Mycroft’s people to seize her. After so many years of caprice and chaos, the shadow figure known as Rouge had been taken down by a man in a fluffy jumper with brogues on his feet who wore pants that matched his lover’s socks. The look of horror washed over her beautiful features one more time as she was taken away. John shook his head. Hubris. There was a level of criminal genius that triggered it, he thought to himself. Again and again John had witnessed it personally.

John consulted his mobile. Sherlock was downstairs somewhere. The bodies were still in the hallway but John just stepped around them as he followed the signal until he reached a door off from the kitchen. A bare bulb lit the staircase which went down a flight. John went, mindful of traps with every step he took but like so many others, Rouge had felt safe in her hideout and had prepared nothing.

Sherlock was chained to a wall. He was sagged forward and dressed in strange clothes, a dark gray shirt and badly fitting trousers. It made the pale skinned man appear monochromatic and Sherlock seemed to blend in with the dreary dampness everywhere. The only light were from two filthy windows that Sherlock was chained between. John called out softly, “I brought you some clean clothes.”

Sherlock started. Twisting his head around Sherlock looked over his shoulder in disbelief. “John!” John went right over and wrapped his arms around Sherlock, hugging him hard and kissing him between the shoulder blades, “Oh god John!” Sherlock pressed his body back into John’s as best he was able.

“Let’s get you out of this.” John dug in his pockets and pulled out Sherlock’s lock-pick kit. It took John a minute of awkward reaching and letting Sherlock kiss his cheek over and over again but John managed to undo the manacles that held Sherlock in place. Sherlock groaned as his arms came down. His wrists were red and raw looking, “How long have you been up like this?”

“Not terribly long, a couple of hours at most. She spent a long time lecturing me upstairs. She’s quite the planner. I’ll tell you everything after.” Sherlock kissed John hard and John kissed him back. They were safe in one another’s arms once more and the world was right. John went back to being just ordinary John, tucking away the soldier inside him until he was needed. Right now, being just Sherlock’s was more than enough. When the kiss finally ended Sherlock looked down, “You got here just in time. Ten more minutes would have seen me out of the country. She had a helicopter on the way.”

John shivered, “I wouldn’t have stopped looking, no matter what. You know that.”

“I know it John. Take me home.” John led Sherlock upstairs. The man was in shock and he was hungry as well. Rouge had given Sherlock neither food nor drink and there was still blood on his head from where he’d been struck unconscious. John was grim. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

“You as well John, you look like you’ve been rather busy.” John still had dried blood on his hands and arms. His shirt too. Everywhere really. Well, he hadn’t packed for himself and he would survive till he got home but they weren’t going anywhere with another man’ s clothes on his lover’s back! He took Sherlock to another room where Sherlock stripped off the strange clothes he’d been given and gratefully climbed into his own things. He laughed when he saw the socks and his eyes reddened a bit when John cheekily pulled out the hem of his pants to show that they once again matched. John staggered a bit at that point though, the blow to his head now making itself known once more now that John system wasn’t being continuously flooded with adrenaline. “I may need to sit.”

John threw up instead. Sherlock let him be sick and then cleaned him up with his discarded shirt and left the mess on Rouge’s expensive carpet. “You may have a concussion John. We need to get out of here.” Anthea materialized just as they were leaving. She took one look at John and called the paramedics that were on standby for Sherlock who seemed perfectly fine if a bit bruised and stiff. John could tell he was very dehydrated and definitely undernourished. They looked at one another and cursed silently. They were going to end up in the hospital whether they wanted to go or not!

They did but only for overnight and as promised Mycroft got them in the same room together. Greg took a picture of them in side by side hospital beds to send to Mummy who had made him promise to do so if the situation ever happened. John was under orders to not move because he did have a concussion but nothing a little rest wouldn’t fix. He was under what was laughingly referred to as ‘observation’ which just meant the floor nurse made extra trips between rounds to take his vitals. Sherlock however was a master of observation and kept a sharp eye on his doctor from his bed where the tall man was hooked up to a drip feed to deal with his dehydration and picking his way through a meal of hospital food which he did not want. John refused to sleep until Sherlock finished eating so they were at a bit of a stand-off at the moment because it took all night. “You need to rest John.”

“You need to eat Sherlock.” John just looked at Sherlock sternly until the detective petulantly began to fork in one tasteless mouthful after another. “Fruit cup too.” Sherlock groaned but opened the offensive packaging and made a production of gagging down one spoonful after another until it was done.

Kirk and Victor came to visit right before they checked out to go home. John had just gotten dressed and was tying on his shoes. Sherlock was still behind the curtain getting his trousers on. “John! John oh my god are you alright?” the worry in Kirk's voice was sweet. John smiled at the Dom who was holding Victor’s hand tightly. Victor looked concerned too but hadn’t said anything. He cut anxious eyes to the closed curtain around Sherlock’s bed. “Is….oh god….is Sherlock hurt?”

“I’m fine.” snapped Sherlock, whipping open the curtain. His wrists were chaffed badly and had required binding. Sherlock also had a bandage wound about his head to hold the dressing onto the small cut on his scalp. Ignoring his appearance Sherlock went straight to John and helped him stand. It would be a day or two before John stopped getting dizzy whenever he got up. They had already been signed out; the doctors at St. Bart’s didn’t even try to argue anymore. Unless one of them needed to be kept on something close to life support neither man was willing to remain in hospital.

“John! Look at you! At him! Both of you were hurt…..Greg said…..you….Sherlock, you were kidnapped?” Kirk sounded near tears and when Sherlock gave a brief nod Kirk burst into tears and wept on Victor’s shoulder. “How can you go home? Do you want us to stay with you? Are the police helping?”

“Stop it Kirk! We’re fine. John took care of everything and Mycroft cleaned up afterward. We just need to go home and rest for a bit. Mummy is expecting us at the end of the week. I hope the bruises fade before then.” Kirk didn’t need to know more than that but Victor looked like he was filled with questions.

John looked at the red-eyed Dom and Victor who looked very embarrassed, “We’re really fine. It’s not like this is even the first time Sherlock’s been kidnapped. It’s not even the first time this year. Really, we’re okay. We just need to go home and rest. Quietly.” both Kirk and Victor were wide-eyed now. “Fuck. Victor, I told you our lives were dangerous. I didn’t mean we dealt with a lot of snarky comments. I mean that we are frequently in danger. Can you just let us go home now? I need a cup of tea.”

Victor and Kirk wouldn’t stop hovering and it turned out that Kirk had driven to the hospital and offered to drive them back home as well. Once safely back in 221 B Kirk took Victor food shopping and came back to reload their fridge with things that weren’t unintentionally fuzzy and even got a fresh carton of milk for their tea. While Sherlock and John showered and climbed into their pajamas and robes Victor made them sandwiches and Kirk set out some biscuits. When they were done fluttering around they gave the dour pair on the sofa a soft smile and finally left John and Sherlock alone.

“Sleep?” suggested John. They needed to sleep and recover. Mummy was expecting a visit and there was a wedding to plan.

“Fantastic.” said Sherlock and just took John straight off to bed. The world could wait.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a few more chapters to go.....I can hear wedding bells


	24. Ordinary and Extraordinary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been such a busy time for the boys. Life is never dull for the lovers but regular life demands attention too not matter how exciting things have been.

John slept for nearly fourteen hours that first night. He was vaguely aware that Sherlock had gotten up several times, had smelled tea and toast and eventually had managed to drag himself out of sleep to find Sherlock had moved both laptops into the bedroom so he could watch a movie on one and browse the net on the other. He was also using both mobiles and there was a stack of saucers and cups by the side of the bed. “Good morning love, I thought you’d never get up.”

John had to smile when Sherlock called him ‘love’. It felt sweet and comforting. John’s head felt clear and the aches in his body seemed to have largely said goodbye. His shoulders and back were a bit sore but overall John felt hale and hearty. The doctor sat up slowly and Sherlock leaned in for a kiss which John eagerly gave him. “I need to clean up and then I want to check your bandages.”

“Alright John, I’ll wait here.” Sherlock had no reason to move. He had everything he needed right there so John just chuckled and took himself away for a wash and a cup of tea of his own. It felt amazing to brush his teeth and when he was finally comfortable again he took himself back to bed to rejoin Sherlock who was finally shutting everything down. When he was ready John checked his wounds and was satisfied that everything was progressing as normal. There’d be no way in hell they’d be recovered for their visit with Mummy though. They’d have to go, wounds and all. John sighed.

Sherlock pulled his pensive lover closer, “Our first visit together wasn’t so bad, was it John? This will be even easier since just Mummy with be there and whoever else is visiting. Rouge is in jail so we should be reasonably safe.”

“You’re right. I know. I guess I’m just tired still and I probably should eat.” John didn’t feel like cooking though and Sherlock was best kept out of the kitchen unless supervised. John also didn’t feel like getting dressed to go out and when he looked at the clock he saw that none of his favorite restaurants were even open yet, Speedy’s being closed while the owner was on vacation. John sighed again.

“I’m playing our pity card.” Sherlock picked up his mobile and dialed a number. “Victor, John needs food and after what happened….well you understand. Nothing heavy. Hot if you can manage. He’s barely woken up; he’s only managed a cup of tea. He doesn’t look good. I’m not putting you out am I? Thanks Victor. We’ll see you both shortly.”

John just covered his face. It would have been easier to go out than it would to now have to deal with the weepy Kirk and extra-nervous Victor. “You made me sound like I was at death’s door!”

“Well you don’t look your best right now. You have only had a cup of tea. Neither of us wants to go out, they’ll be here in twenty minutes.” John groaned and got up to dress, forcing Sherlock to dress as well. Sherlock consoled himself by making John wear a sinfully delicate pair of pants that clung to the doctor in very intimate ways. John felt strange and then it was as if the pants vanished. He rather liked the feel of it, “Silk John. I thought you’d enjoy it.” They were a shimmering purple, decadently rich in color. The matching socks on Sherlock’s feet made John feel strangely warm and he wondered if he was developing some kind of a fetish for socks.

Sherlock wore a tee-shirt because his wrists were very sore. Even having the loose sleeves of his robe touch it bothered him so John made him put on two tee-shirts and then re-wrapped his wrists. The cut on his head had sealed over enough that John felt it alright to just skip the head bandage which Sherlock would just remove and throw away anyway. The stitches were mostly hidden by Sherlock’s curls so John hoped that seeing them wouldn’t set Kirk off or earn him some kind of lecture from Victor because John really didn’t have the patience for that today.

They just made it out to the front when there was a tentative tap at the door. Mrs. Hudson was home and she had Kirk and Victor behind her, “Boys! Oh just look at the pair of you. It warms my heart, you two are always in trouble together.” patting their arms carefully she led the visitors in and went to make tea, “Just this once! I’m not your housekeeper!”

It always made John smile when she said this. They never asked her to but she was always puttering around the flat when they were gone, Hoovering for John or taking away the inedible food from their fridge to discard in a merciful fashion. She worried for them in a proud sort of way, concerned that they be well but still very understanding of their need to constantly place themselves in jeopardy. John made a note to get her another gift for no reason, she just deserved something special. He realized Kirk was looking at both of them.

“I’m not dying.” he felt compelled to say and Kirk actually looked relieved. “Listen, I was just too lazy to get up and go shopping and Sherlock is lazy all the time. He called without asking me and he’s pretty fast so, thanks for breakfast.”

They were holding a stack of take-out containers. It smelled divine. John thought the pair would be put out by being called to deliver food but Victor just rolled his eyes and Kirk actually smiled fondly at the detective, “Oh you little scamp! No wonder John loves you so much. Well, we may as well eat while it’s still almost hot.”

It was homey and delicious. There was a small pot of piping hot cereal with cream and sugar on it. A huge muffin of some strange but delicious blend was tucked beside the hot cereal container and there was an ice-cold tub of fruit-salad to go with it all as well as thick wedges of toast and two boiled eggs. “There’s a little place right next to Kirk’s flat, they do these up for breakfast on the go.”

John made tea for everyone and they sat down to eat. It was delicious and filling without being heavy. John ate every scrap and even Sherlock finished all of it except for one egg which he saved to experiment on later. When he pulled open his experiment cupboard Kirk sounded a little sick, “Is that a foot?”

John glanced up. There was a low clear tub sitting on the topmost shelf and it was filled with a green tinted liquid. There was a human foot set in it, just standing on the bottom of the container almost innocently. “Yes, looks like a left foot. Hey Sherlock, is this what you did with your second left foot?”

Victor laughed, Kirk looked confused and Sherlock scowled at John, “Very amusing my dear but yes. I did surgery on my own leg and replaced my defective foot with a better one. Thanks for noticing.” John laughed and Victor looked so surprised that Sherlock had cracked a joke at his own expense. Kirk just tittered and rolled his eyes.

“It’s okay to laugh Kirk. Sherlock could not dance a step before John showed him how and we all know that if Sherlock could figure out how to do surgery on his own body, he’d do it.” Sherlock opened his mouth to protest Victor’s comment but the look on John’s face shut it. Everyone knew that if he could manage it Sherlock would be cutting bits of himself off and sewing them back on again, all in the name of science.

“So that’s it? The pair of you went through a horrific experience and this is what you do? You just come home and just start the next day like normal? Most people would be traumatised if that happened to them.” Victor was clearly trying to restrain himself but he still sounded concerned and more than a bit worried. He looked at Sherlock and John frowned.

Sherlock looked at Victor calmly, “We’re fine Victor. We’re together. We’re safe for now. The wounds will heal the way they always do. Tomorrow there’ll be a new enemy and a new mystery to solve but right now there’s breakfast and John’s tea. We’re completely fine.”

Kirk just looked at the pair of them and shook his head gently, “Vladimir would like to see you both too, if you have some time.” John was surprised and that surprised Kirk, “You saved their lives John. I mean yes, they got kidnapped because of you but that wasn’t your fault. Carl has asked to see you both. Will you?”

John couldn’t say no. He wanted to make sure the small man was going to be alright. Some of those lash marks had been very bad and John hadn’t felt good about needing to leave them alone before help got there. He agreed to see them later that day. Kirk and Victor planned to have dinner with the other couple so after a quick clean-up they left again after John thanked them for breakfast. Sherlock was reading something on his laptop and didn’t notice their departure.

“Am I a good sub John or a poor one?” John wasn’t expecting a question like that. Sherlock looked up at him, his eyes calm but still questioning. 

John thought carefully before he answered. “I think that relationship we have is only a bit like the ones we’ve seen. You want me to take care of you which I what I want to do anyway. I think our whole friendship has been about sorting out exactly how I do that. I don’t need to do anything to harm you in order to get you to change your bad habits. One afternoon of helping me do chores is enough to keep you on your best for months! I understand the appeal of some of the rituals we’ve observed but I don’t feel the need to embrace them. For me, I’d say you’re pretty much perfect Sherlock. I’d never want you to be docile and well-mannered all the time because that’s just not you. You are blunt and overwhelming, you’re not held back by social convention, you embrace the reality of life with open eyes and it’s always amazed me, you know it has. I think there are a lot of choices we’re going to explore together but it’s never going to be about pain, not for me. We get hurt enough. All I want for you is to keep you happy; however it is that I have to do it. That’s what I want.”

“We’ve had a strange romance.” observed Sherlock wryly and John had to laugh. They certainly had. Sherlock got up and pulled John close. “You keep me centered and grounded John. You make things clear enough so I can understand it. You confuse me so often, the way you see the world is strange to me but you fit so easily into it. I’ve never been able to do so for more than a few hours at a time but you, you wear the world as easily as you wear your jumper and you do it every hour of the day and I find THAT amazing. You fit in my world too, easily and perfectly and despite my disbelief in celestial beings, if there is one they made John Watson especially for me and I am grateful.

“It’s the pants. I find you can deal with just about anything in a smart pair of pants.” John winked at Sherlock who laughed softly and kissed John. “We’ve got a few hours, back to bed Sherlock.”

It was time well spent. John collared Sherlock who blushed when it was buckled on. By the time they were sated both men were flushed, sweaty and both had a considerably larger quantity of bruises on their bodies though both had taken care to only mark their lovers where it could be easily covered. Sherlock was now lying partially on John who was propped up on a pile of pillows. The detective’s legs were spread wide and there were scratch marks down his back. Both men felt dozy and in need of a nap but after they regained the use of their legs they showered and left to visit Vladimir and Carl. Sherlock wore his collar and John just shook his head and smiled softly at Sherlock’s contented face.

Vladimir answered the door. Wordlessly he hugged John tight and then pulled Sherlock in for similarly tight hug, “Carl is resting out front.” he led them to a day-room where Carl was lounging carefully on an elegant divan wearing a decadently embroidered robe. He looked pinched and a bit pale. Vladimir bade them sit on a small low couch parallel to the lovers while Vladimir squeezed himself in by the reclining Carl’s feet. “We want to thank you. You saved us both.”

“We got you into trouble and both of you were hurt for no reason.” countered John. Vladimir looked solemnly at the doctor.

“Our lives are not so safe John. I met Carl when he needed a bodyguard. It became more than that over time. We understand danger. This is the first time he’s ever been hurt but because you found us so fast there will only be a few small scars and Carl will be alive for me to love. I am grateful for that.” John wondered what it was that Carl did that was so dangerous. 

The lovely small man looked shyly at John and Sherlock and spoke, “Business, corporations. They can be savage after a certain point. I handle certain details and after a while you become known. I’ve been threatened many times but we weren’t expecting anything that night and were taken by surprise. I just want you to know we don’t blame you. You didn’t expose us to anything that might not have happened to us eventually. I didn’t particularly care to be scarred but Vladimir assures me that it takes nothing away from me.”

“I rather enjoy John’s scars. He has gracious plenty of them. Each one is different and each one has its own story. He’s rather fascinating, like a book that keeps getting written. You have a chapter now.” the comment seemed to please both men and John was suddenly very proud of his lover. He’d said exactly the right thing.

“Do you need me to check them Carl? I don’t mind.” John was a doctor. It was in his nature to nurture and help those who needed it. Carl blushed deeply but nodded. “Okay, off with the robe, Sherlock, go stand in the corner or something.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes but stood, only presenting his back instead of leaving to give Carl a bit of privacy. The small man still flushed heavily as John gently checked the stitches that now crossed his back in neat tracks. “It’s good work. The scars should fade away almost entirely.” John carefully re-bandaged the small man as Vladimir hovered anxiously, his large hand clasping Carl’s ankle as he small man lay on his stomach and tried to breathe naturally. 

John made sure Carl had appropriate medication to deal with the pain and that Vladimir understood the best way to care for the wounds. When he was done he returned to his seat and Sherlock sat back down with him. Vladimir looked over to them both, “We’re leaving London. We don’t stay in the same city for long. We have homes in different places. We have a small place in Greece. We want to offer it to you for your honeymoon. It’s just small, nothing fancy but it’s on the water and there’s a bit of a beach."

“We couldn’t possibly!” John began to protest but Carl sounded strangely firm when he cut in.

“John, please. Use it if you wish. It sits empty. We have several houses and we won’t be back to Greece for a long time. I will have the steward make the place ready for your convenience.” Carl got Sherlock to give them their contact information, tapping it quickly into Carl’s phone. The small man took it back and sagged onto the sofa, clearly tired and still very sore.

“We wanted to say farewell and give you both our best wishes.” Vladimir stood. John was almost sorry to hear they were leaving but if that’s how they lived their lives then that was their choice. He stood back up and shook their hands, “It was a great pleasure meeting you both. Thank you for everything you shared with us, it really helped. Thank you for the offer; I believe we’ll take you up on that.” Sherlock would never forgive John for not letting them honeymoon in Greece if John said no. He was very fond of ancient civilizations. John anticipated long lectures about every single ruin they visited.

Vladimir stood up and crushed Sherlock in a farewell hug and ruffled his hair, “Kirk gave you something. Look at it.” The large man shook John’s hand again, “We’ll keep reading your blog. Carl quite likes it.” Carl blushed scarlet and looked away and John laughed warmly before they took their leave. John suddenly felt relieved. He didn’t realize how responsible he’d felt for the pair of them until they took the responsibility away. John had not harmed them, had no intention of ever doing them ill. Once again innocent people had been collateral damage to their hectic lives but these ones at least were willing to understand that John and Sherlock would never have wanted them hurt. John felt lighter and smiled up at Sherlock who was leading him out to the street.

John made Sherlock help him do the shopping, the tall man whinging about it as if they hadn’t been at risk of being separated forever AGAIN just a short while ago. It needed to be done though, their med kit needed restocking and various supplies needed replacing. Still, John noticed that Sherlock rarely ventured more than a few feet away from John and eyed everyone who approached them with discrete suspicion. Considering everything that did manage to happen to them John decided this was very good of Sherlock and helped out by watching as well. Imagine how embarrassing it would be to be taken out in your local chemists! Better to be safe than sorry!

They got home and had just stowed their shopping when Greg and Mycroft showed up. John barely stifled his groan. He wasn’t prepared for more company. Today had been incredibly busy. Still, Mycroft HAD backed John when he needed him and they HAD fought side-by-side in battle and John WAS going to marry his brother so John gave them both a warm smile and a fresh cup of tea each. Wordlessly he cancelled the order on Mycroft’s broken nose and just slid a plate of biscuits over instead. Greg ate most of them but Mycroft nibbled one away while he had his tea. Greg was bragging, “You completely missed the fun at your own party. Mycroft beat Sherlock’s record on that mechanical bull. It was AMAZING!”

Sherlock wrinkled his nose and looked green, “I could have lived my entire life without that image in my head, thanks Lestrade. I can’t even delete it because if I do I’ll forget part of my bachelor party. Don’t do it again.”

“His legs went on for miles. That dress! You should have seen how they made his legs look. I practically had to put the club on house arrest to keep some of those people off him. His arse was incredible.” Greg was grinning at Sherlock’s discomfort and Mycroft had his eyebrow raised as he looked at his lover questioningly, “What! You were dead sexy Myc, can’t a bloke brag a bit?” Mycroft actually blushed the tiniest bit and said nothing.

“Why are you so good at the mechanical bull Sherlock?” asked John suddenly. Sherlock had a strange approach to life, who knew when he would have gained mastery over something as odd as a mechanical bull.

“I’ve never tried one before but Mycroft and I did ride a lot when we were growing up. The technique is not dissimilar.” John suddenly envisioned Sherlock riding him, legs spread wide as his thighs worked to keep him moving over John. Flushing John got up to make tea and cool his blush. He wondered what Mycroft and Greg had come over for and Sherlock apparently did too, “Why are you here?”

“Merely to see that you are well and ask if you wish to go to Mummy’s together or if you’ll be wanting your own car?” John didn’t want to drive and he most certainly did not want Sherlock to drive. They’d never get there, he’d be haring off across England chasing interesting facts.

“We can go together. It will be fine.” John would have Greg to talk to and that would make the trip so much better. Also there was a greater chance of leaving early if they travelled with both Greg and Mycroft who had very demanding jobs and Sherlock would also be first on hand if Greg got a call about an exciting case. It would be best.

“Very well John. Enjoy the rest of your day.” What rest of the day? It was late in the afternoon already and John had barely done anything but talk to other people. He was behind on his chore list and Sherlock was already wandering away to the sofa. Greg just clapped John on the shoulder. “See you in a few days mate.”

“Right.” John let them out of the flat and locked them in starting with the street door and didn’t stop until he had the flat shut down tight. Mrs. Hudson had waved cheerily at him through the glass pane in her door. She always cheered him up but he didn’t interrupt her. She was watching her programs now.

Sherlock was plastered to the sofa and playing with John’s laptop so John just got on with his chores. Rounding up their mountain of laundry he man-handled the mess down to 221 C and began to wash their clothes. Since there were spots of blood on them he did their bedding too and was suddenly spurred into an orgy of cleaning. 

While the laundry was going John went back upstairs and forced Sherlock to sweep the flat for bugs and turned up one in the foyer. After some debate they left it. Sherlock plugged in both laptops and soon had a small line of charging devices which he monitored though he continued to use John’s laptop for something and was typing madly as John cleaned their home.

He was dumping another load of clean clothes on their newly made bed. The whole room smelled crisp and clean now. John hated doing the laundry but like everything else he liked to do a good job of it so he put everything neatly away. Sherlock’s shirts were always sent out but John did his own and ironed them before he re-hung them on his side of the wardrobe. He then sorted through all their pants and socks, bundling up Sherlock’s things in a neat stack for the detective to eventually put away. John noticed that the last neat stack he’d placed on the dresser was still there. Sherlock hadn’t put his socks away and there was nowhere to put the newly cleaned ones.

John pulled open the drawer and inspected it. The dozens of tiny cubby-holes bore different colored socks and there didn’t seem to be an obvious order to it but John became determined. He looked closer. The dresser was quite wide. Apart from the bed it was the largest item in the room and had been specially made for Sherlock’s underthings. It held a LOT of socks. John looked at the neatly bundled socks he had waiting and at all the empty spaces that waited.

The colors….there was something about the colors that tickled the back of John’s mind. The ones to the left seemed predominantly red but the ones at the far right were heavily in the purple ranges. Suddenly John realized Sherlock had arranged his socks according to the ROYGBIV wavelength spectrum. Everything seemed to be sorted by the density of the predominant color. Tongue in teeth John picked up the first balled up pair of socks and tucked it into a cubby-hole. It seemed to blend in nicely with the other socks beside it. Bravely he picked up another pair, thought for a minute and then committed. He popped it in too. The more he did them more sense it made. Clearly this pair had more green than that pair which was based in green but had so many images on it that were predominantly yellow, that pair went with the yellow.

Task complete! There were no more socks to put away and with the exception of the pair Sherlock was currently wearing, all the socks had been put away in the index by John. Suddenly he stepped away from the dresser. What had he done! In all the years they’d been together John had NEVER touched the sock index! That’s exactly the moment Sherlock came into the bedroom. 

“John!” Sherlock looked, his face filled with consternation. Pulling the dresser drawer as open as it could get the detective stared at his sock index. John stood there like a deer caught in the headlights as Sherlock examined the desecration. Sherlock’s face was pale and his lips were pressed tight. John’s palms were sweaty and he shifted nervously. Surely the damage could be repaired? John was pretty sure he remembered which socks he’d put away. He could undo this, fix it somehow. Sherlock looked at John and his eyes were serious. “John, you’re amazing. You got it exactly right!”

Relief flooded the doctor and Sherlock looked blazingly happy, “I shouldn’t have touched it without asking though, I’m sorry for that.”

“Tish tosh John, I loathe laundry. You’re the only person in the world who’s ever understood how I’ve arranged something. Extraordinary John! Clearly I made the right choice when I fell in love with you. You’re obviously perfect for me, thank you love.” Sherlock kissed John tenderly and John couldn’t believe how happy he was to be praised for doing the laundry. With a fond look Sherlock went back out front leaving John to finish the rest of his tasks with a huge smile. He felt victorious and it was a good day.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wedding plans! Holmes vs Watson - let the game begin


	25. Ambush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All their foes vanquished our two stalwart heroes limp their way forward, side by side as always.

The road trip was happening soon so while Sherlock was sneaking a cigarette at the window John pulled out a black silk bag and set it on the bed. Sherlock came back and looked at it. “Is that Kirk’s gift?” John nodded, “Are you going to open it?” John shrugged and looked at it pointedly. Sherlock grinned and opened it. Sherlock was afire with curiosity as he extracted the small items contained within. There were only three things. Blinders, a ball gag and arm restraints in heavy black leather. Both men looked at them and then looked at one another.

“I suppose we should have expected something like this.” said John who was very thoughtful all of a sudden. Kirk certainly was very clever about some things. This was actually very perfect. Sherlock looked a bit uncertain and John discovered he liked that reaction. He caressed the blinders which was the item that Sherlock looked most nervous about.

“What works for one will not work for another.” John murmured, recalling Vladimir’s words. These blinders would remove any hint of light from whoever wore them. Sherlock’s ability to see a great deal very quickly was one of his most valuable tools and one of his greatest weaknesses. He didn’t know how to shut off and didn’t want to.

Taking away Sherlock’s ability to articulate himself would be a huge deterrent. His wicked mouth was one of John’s favorite things and it would have to require a pretty serious reason to remove Sherlock’s ability to speak. The humiliation of being seen restrained in such a fashion would be as effective for Sherlock as being savagely collared had worked for Carl. John immediately decided that this particular tool would be used only as a last resort and would require a lot of thought before John employed it. He looked at the arm restraints.

Sherlock was a fidgety man. Learning to moderate himself had never been a priority and many times he would have done better in a situation if he could just have held himself back a few seconds longer. He needed to learn patience. By binding his arms John would in one small way be preventing Sherlock from being able to move as freely as he normally enjoyed and John suddenly had visions of Sherlock kneeling in various poses, arms held back with the restraints tied with complex patterns and John began to breathe a tiny bit harder. Sherlock wouldn’t like it but it would be the least threatening of the three items in the bag as far as the detective was concerned.

These were good gifts, useful gifts. John could tolerate their use in specific circumstances and they would not physically harm Sherlock. With these John could help Sherlock learn to be less vulnerable to his weaknesses and become a stronger person. John looked at Sherlock and smiled. His lover would not like being blinded and bound, not at all. Sherlock shivered and said nothing but his cheeks were flushed and his eyes were bright. He understood and accepted. John smiled again and tucked the tools away for when they were needed. Sherlock was visibly relieved. “They’re not for fun Sherlock. You know what they’re for.”

“Carl’s collar.” said Sherlock immediately and John nodded. Sherlock was a proud man and these items would only be employed when he was acting like a child. The threat to his dignity was enough. The tall man looked nervously at his feet, “I promise to try John, really I do promise.”

John stifled a smile as he tucked the bag into his suitcase. Just knowing that the bag existed was enough for Sherlock. John might never need to remove the items inside; perhaps merely bringing that black silk bag out would be enough to sway the detective from his self-destructive urges. Still he was intrigued with the idea of binding Sherlock and decided to talk to his sub about it when they were at leisure. This wasn’t a good moment for that sort of discussion. No, for that talk John would want time and a lot of privacy. As it was they needed to get ready for dinner.

“John?” Sherlock looked anxious and John pulled him tight. He let his lover hold onto him and take comfort. “Can we? Just for a bit?”

John nodded and went back to his suitcase. He found Sherlock’s plain collar and buckled it on. Sherlock sighed with contentment and cuddled with John until it was very close to departure time. Reluctantly Sherlock knelt and let John remove it, sighing as it was tucked away. John kissed his lover who kneeled between his legs and tilted his head back to give John access. John had an idea for their honeymoon and made a note to text Kirk later to arrange a surprise for John. He’d seen something that the other Dom could acquire for him. With a last kiss and lingering embrace the two men picked up their bags and went to meet Mycroft and Greg for the drive to Mummy’s.

They should have taken their own vehicle. They could have been half-way across the country by now! Surely Sherlock knew someplace they could have holed up for a while, someplace interesting but cosy. John sat at the end of the long table and looked down at the massive book in front of him. What was half this stuff anyway? “John, you have to choose, we’re placing the orders as soon as possible.” John looked at his mother in dismay. Choose what? How? Why was this happening to him!

Sherlock was looking equally panicked at least as he was badgered by his mother. Victoria had surprised everyone when she invited Charity to visit and get to know one another as they ambushed their sons into planning the wedding. Mycroft and Greg had completely abandoned them and John had never felt so betrayed. Yes they’d be back later that afternoon but still, John felt betrayed. They had no right going off for a pleasant day in the country when Sherlock and John were forced to make decisions about napkin folding and venues. They hadn’t even picked a day yet and both mothers pointed that fact out frequently. Sherlock was valiantly battling his mother, “Mummy it’s not going to be a big wedding. We don’t want a big wedding.”

“Sherlock, if we add up all the degrees it turns out that you have thirty-two cousins altogether. Most of them have partners or can at least find a date, the whole family is coming, not to mention close friends and it’s going to be a big wedding. Now, teal or buttercup?” Sherlock clearly had no idea what his mother was asking about and John only had the faintest idea what his own mother was showing him. Why did people need all this stuff when they got married?

“John, focus. You can’t just let this wait until the last minute. When Harry and Clara were wed it was a nightmare! Everything was back-ordered, some of it never showed up! Well you remember don’t you?” John’s memory produced a vague impression of his sister’s wedding. There seemed to be a lot of flowers and fluffy things but as for the mechanics of it, he hadn’t paid attention at all.

“Mum we just want to get married; we didn’t want this big production!” John was getting irate but his mother ignored him and just opened the big book to another page, this one filled with invitation samples, “What is this?”

“Well we have to notify the rest of the clan! I can’t just call people up and say ‘oh by the way John is getting married, feel like popping by?’ we need proper invitations. Goodness John, what did you think would happen?” John’s mother looked exasperated.

“What I’m thinking is going to happen is that Sherlock and I are getting married on our own somewhere private and having done with it.” John regretted his words the second they left his mouth. Both mothers drew up tall in offended silence that ranged ominously through the whole elegantly decorated room. John was pinned with twin stares that combined hurt and fury.

“John Hamish Watson! Are you telling me you are willing to skulk away and get married on the sly like you’re ashamed of something? I would have thought you would want to shout it from the mountain tops. You’ve made it very plain how important this person is to you, are you saying you don’t feel he’s worth the effort of planning a wedding so that your whole family can see who you chose?” John couldn’t say a thing to that. He cut his eyes to Sherlock who had joined the mum brigade with faint accusation in his eyes.

“That’s not what I’m saying at all! Don’t do that mum! I just thought we’d…I only….I…..I’m sorry?” the choosing resumed only now Sherlock was paying great attention to his mother and looking over all the samples carefully. John’s heart sank. They were in it up to their eyeballs now. They were having a big posh wedding, no holds barred and both mums were going to see to it that their boys did it up right. 

“This is what hell must be like.” thought John to himself. He had just taken out a criminal mastermind so devious she had outwitted the entire British Government for years. He had survived Irene Adler, James Moriarty and Mary. He’d endured Harry’s mistreatment, the devastating loss of his surgical career and a host of other events that would have destroyed nearly anyone else including the apparent suicide of his best friend. John would have happily recreated any of those moments to make this day go away. What the fuck was a favor bag? It sounded ominous.

“I’ll call the tailor in London darling, you both can be fitted there. Black do you think? Charcoal perhaps?” Victoria was smiling down at Sherlock who glanced over to John, “You decide when you get there but we’ll need to know soon little one.”

“Yes Mummy. We’ll tell you as soon as we’ve been.” Mummy nodded and turned the page in Sherlock’s wedding planner. Both mothers had colluded somehow and had split the decision making between the two men. The frightening speed at which they had produced the tomes had John jittery and jumpy feeling. How long had they been in contact with one another? Both women had greeted them at the door when they had arrived just after lunch and had given them no chance to resist. Greg and Mycroft fled mere minutes later and they had been at this for an eternity.

John almost started to hyperventilate when a servant rolled in a large pin-board. It was covered with charts and schematics. Everyone but John crowded around it and began an animated discussion about colors, themes and seating arrangements. Were they planning the whole wedding today? They were listing venues and Sherlock looked unhappy with all of them but John couldn’t tell one location from another. The soldier’s brain entirely disconnected but his mouth joined the proceedings, “Why not have it here?”

The sound both mothers made right then rivaled any coo that Mrs. Hudson had ever been able to produce and put Kirk’s efforts to shame. Victoria and Charity turned to one another and began a babbling conversation about rooms and the number of guests, both women almost delirious with rapture as they plotted together, completely bypassing the input of either son. Finally Victoria clasped her hands tight together, “This place will be properly filled for the first time in decades! I’ll get the staff to begin preparations immediately. There’s so much to do now!” Another wheeled board was brought in and Victoria impressed Charity no end with the map of their home and the dozens of rooms available. Some of the younger cousins would be lumped in together but cots could be brought if necessary and the rooms themselves were more than large enough to accommodate small groups. John sat there, his mouth hanging open as every single decision was taken right out his hands.

“Victoria, this is too much.” Charity finally protested when the list turned to the lying in of supplies to feed that many people for days. “Certainly there will be some overnight guests but a week?”

“Charity, unlike you neither of my children has married yet. I have quite despaired at ever seeing either of them approach anything even slightly resembling matrimony. I’ve been waiting for Sherlock to be married since he was twenty. The boy is nearly forty! Twenty years Charity! Twenty! I’ve been waiting and waiting all this time, Mycroft has been a dismal disappointment marriage-wise so this is my first chance! I am going to drag in every person I know to witness this miraculous event and make them watch as long as possible. Now, would you like to join me?”

Both mothers went back to planning, working in terrifying harmony. Sherlock came over and sat beside John, “Why are we here John? They’re not listening to us at all.” That actually got their attention and both mothers turned back with somewhat guilty expressions on their faces.

Victoria looked at both of their glum faces. “You can leave right after the reception if you want. Just give us this, please?” John shut his eyes to avoid looking at his mother who was making the same sad/hopeful face that Victoria had on. It was unbearable.

John was the Dom so he squeezed Sherlock’s fingers and made him do something he didn’t really feel like doing, “That’s acceptable.” said Sherlock politely. With quiet dignity both Sherlock and John sat there and watched their mothers spin a fairy-tale wedding for two men who had no idea why they would require a birdcage or why there were so many styles to choose from. Dumbly John just pointed to a rather gothic looking one that seemed to have caught Sherlock’s eye and Victoria ticked it off the list.

Eventually Sherlock had something to say, “Black and silver.” Both women stopped what they were doing and looked at Sherlock who sighed and repeated himself, “Black and silver for John and I. We both look good in black and silver so that’s what we’ll wear. Proceed.”

With small fond smiles they made a note of Sherlock’s color choices and went ahead with a myriad of other baffling decisions that needed to be made. As the hours crept by Mycroft and Greg failed to rescue them. The two men were sustained on tiny sandwiches and someone else’s tea which Sherlock gagged down but moaned about until his mother got someone to bring John everything he needed to make a cup for Sherlock who finally stopped whining. At this point John was firmly convince that both his mother and his mother-in-law-to-be should start their own aggressive wedding planner business because they clearly had been filled with some kind of repressed wedding-plan fever. 

The paralysis of being pinned into place by their mothers wore off eventually. “Mummy, can I just take John on a tour of the house? You haven’t actually asked our opinion on anything in the last ninety minutes. We can come back from time to time to say yes or no to things.” 

“Very well little one. Dinner is at six. Informal.” Victoria didn’t even turn around and with a relieved sigh both of them left their mothers behind, now surrounded by three planning boards and a rather amazing selection of binders. John shook his head and walked quickly away before they got called back.

Dutifully Sherlock toured John around the massive house, wandering up one vast hallway after another. It was a museum of Holmes’ artefacts, the house rich with memories. John had seen tiny bits of it on his last visit but this was the first chance he’d gotten to see nearly the entire thing but Sherlock brought him back to their room after completing the main floor and the first story of apartments. John unpacked and checked their clothes to see what would be suitable to wear for dinner.

Both men needed to comfort each other after the horror of choosing between table-cloth samples, candle samples, everything samples. Where Mummy had produced these items from John didn’t know but his mother was almost giddy with power as they exorcised years of accumulated maternal instinct and married their boys off. John even went so far as to dig out Sherlock’s collar and buckle it on tightly while they sat back on the small sofa that graced Sherlock’s private sitting room. “Do we get to invite people or are they deciding who our friends are too?”

“I have no idea who to invite John. You’re my only friend. Mrs. Hudson most definitely has to come. I suppose if I had to stretch I’d say perhaps Molly Hooper. I know Mike Stamford but he’s really more your friend than he is mine. I suppose we’ll have to invite Victor and Kirk if only because Victor’s family will mostly be coming as well. Mummy has always maintained very close ties with the neighborhood. It would seem odd not to include him.” Sherlock thought deeply for a few minutes more, “That’s it for me. I only really consider Lestrade close enough to be invited and Mycroft will be bringing him regardless.”

John felt a bit bad for Sherlock. John had a huge list of people to invite though his mother had probably already have most of those names on her list. Sherlock had made it all the way to this point in his life without making any kind of connection with anyone except less than a handful of people. He had more of an emotional connection with the Homeless Network and it wasn’t even for a particular individual. Sherlock loved the concept for itself and not the parts it was made of. “Well you’re about to marry a Watson so all this ‘alone is what I have’ rubbish is right out the window. We’ll be having regular Sunday dinners with friends and family in no time.”

Sherlock groaned and covered his face with his hands while John chuckled. It would be horrible for both of them. John liked their bizarrely introverted life. He had no intention of encouraging people to disturb the harmony of their private world but it wouldn’t hurt to get out with Sherlock once in a while, maybe bring him to the pub on trivia night or to have a round with the boys at the center. They’d liked Sherlock and the madman could practice being nice to people while he was there.

John decided to change the dressing around Sherlock’s wrists. They weren’t raw anymore but they were still tender from being rasped raw by the cuffs Rouge had him in. The cut on his head had sealed over and was a tiny bit red but careful combing had teased enough curls over it to obscure it. They didn’t have time to fool around but that didn’t stop Sherlock from shamelessly groping the doctor whenever he was within reach. The pair of them had a smattering of bruises from their altercation with Rouge but Sherlock’s wrists were now the only visible reminder that the event had even happened. John solicitously rolled the sleeves of Sherlock’s shirt and dinner jacket up just a bit.

People noticed at dinner. There were only a dozen or so guests, various cousins and a couple of neighbors who chatted with Victoria and Charity merrily. Sherlock was suddenly receiving a lot of sober and disapproving looks which John didn’t really understand until suddenly he looked at Sherlock closely. John almost groaned out loud and complained softly to his lover, “Your family seems to think you tried to commit suicide! Wrist cuts? That’s what your bandages look like they’re covering.”

Sherlock looked down at the pinched faces that deliberately weren’t turned their way and held up his wrists. “We were attacked and I was held hostage. These are cuff-wounds from my captors. Check with Mycroft.” Eyes swiveled to Mycroft who had been speaking quietly with Greg. Both men looked up and Mycroft nodded, looking bored.

“Sherlock! Who in the world would you be annoying so much they cuffed you?” demanded cousin Carlton who seemed dead set on viewing the pair in the dimmest of lights. John had to stop himself from laughing when he mentally compared Carlton to Anderson. They even had the same ridiculous hairstyle except that Carlton was fair.

“Can’t tell you Carlton. Official Secrets Act.” Again Mycroft nodded and waved his hand in a way that seemed to indicate that yes Sherlock was telling the truth but no Mycroft didn’t care to comment on it.

“Another one of your dramatic stories coming up then, right Doctor Watson?” teased Carlton unkindly. John frowned and for a brief moment imagined the satisfaction he’d feel from giving Carlton a wedgie. Childish perhaps but John would enjoy doing it.

Mycroft sighed again and looked at his sneering cousin, “Doctor Watson was to be offered a position with MI6. My superiors are convinced he’d be an excellent team-member. I haven’t offered because I know Doctor Watson would turn it down.”

John was rather chuffed to hear it though. Mycroft was right, as exciting as it would be to know he worked for the fabled MI6 that meant working for Mycroft. No. Just no. “I don’t want to be a double oh Mycroft. What I do is enough already.”

“As stated Doctor Watson, I have not offered because I’m more than aware that you would not accept.” Mycroft sounded dour and the cousins looked shocked, all of them staring at John as if struggling between the frumpy man sitting in front of them and the idea that he was dangerous enough to be desired by such an organization. Mycroft's office would have done very well to bring John on board but John preferred earning his own keep with his proper partner. They could provide for themselves using their skills together. They didn’t need help from Mycroft.

Sherlock was sitting there with a great big huge smile on his face that he made no effort to conceal or minimize. “John! My own personal double oh! I’m the luckiest man alive.” his smile was still the big goofy-just-for-John smile that no one else ever earned and it made John’s ears turn pink with delight. Nauseated sounds came from down the table but Sherlock just flipped off whoever had groaned and leaned in to quickly kiss John even as Mummy reprimanded him about manners at the table.

John could probably use a license to kill. He practically had one already. John suddenly wondered how Mycroft had dealt with the trail of blood John had left behind. John had done it all for Sherlock, just as Sherlock had gone out into the world and taken on Moriarty’s network alone just to save John. John decided to give Mycroft at least one free pass for every corpse he had dealt with. That should keep his nose safe for a good long while. With a sigh John regretted not being able to break Mycroft’s nose any time soon but the man was incredibly interfering. He’d probably burn his way through all those free passes in no time. Much cheered by everything John went back to chatting with Sherlock and shooting sympathetic glances at Greg who was getting a full dose of snobbery from the cousins.

Sherlock was conveying his meager guest list to his mother who made a small note and sighed. John’s mother stared at him until Victoria slid a notepad over so while he ate dinner John composed a list of everyone he wanted to invite to their extravaganza wedding. Spitefully he excluded Harry’s name. His mother would bring her no matter what but John didn’t have to specifically invite his only sister to his wedding. She’d be sloshed in no time too. Maybe he should talk to someone about getting her a handler for the night just so she didn’t cause too much havoc. 

Dessert was being served and John was still writing out his list. John was an amiable person and had a lot of good friends, though only one best friend who would very definitely be attending. Once he’d listed all his army mates, his professional friends as well as a handful of other John had a fairly good sized list to hand over. Victoria was very pleased and Charity looked approving.

Both mothers continued to happily work on the wedding plans during the meal, completely content to ignore everyone in favor of sorting everything out as much as possible.

Mycroft was smirking at John and Sherlock’s fate until his mother handed him a substantial list of responsibilities. “I don’t want to hear you moaning about this Mycroft. Your brother is getting married and I will have a HAPPY occasion, including the time leading up to it. Do I make myself clear?”

Mycroft read the list carefully and looked up at his mother and for a moment he looked just like a small boy. He didn’t hesitate, “I understand Mummy.” Greg was biting his lip to in a fruitless attempt to keep his expression of affection and sympathy from showing as Mycroft sat there chastened but well behaved. His smirks had vanished and did not reappear. John decided to make sure Sherlock didn’t take advantage of the temporary cease-fire imposed by Victoria.

Charity finally looked at John and frowned the tiniest bit, “John, have you and Sherlock discussed the date at all? We can plan only so much without a date in mind.” John had no idea. The sooner the better though. With enough lead time John was afraid that the pair of mothers would be an unstoppable wedding force that would suck in the entire country until John and Sherlock ended up getting married while being recorded and broadcast around the planet in every format available.

“We’ll give you a month to make it happen. If that’s not possible, John and I are getting married quietly someplace uninhabited.” Sherlock and his mother were locked in a battle of wills as their eyes met. Sherlock gripped John’s fingers and refused to blink.

Victoria caved. “One month. Acceptable. If we only have a month then you both have to stay the weekend and confirm our plans. We need to give our guests time to respond. As it is, time will be short.”

The fever of planning escalated. Victoria made Mycroft use his influence to find someone appropriate to perform the ceremony. Neither John nor Sherlock were religious which grieved Charity no end but they would not be swayed into allowing Pastor Clarence do the deed. Finally Mycroft assured his mother, “Mummy, don’t worry. I’m positive I can find someone agreeable for everyone.”

So that was it. They were in hell. Trapped in fact. For days and who really knew how many would be required. There was a month until the wedding and the countdown had begun. John suddenly longed for Greece, the payoff, the end game. They’d leave everyone and everything behind and do nothing for the entirety of their honeymoon, “How long would you want to be gone for Sherlock?”

“Two weeks at least John. We’re only getting married once and two weeks will hardly be enough time to do all the things there is to do in Greece let alone accomplish a satisfactorily romantic holiday. Three if you think it’s alright.” Well they were on nobody’s timetable except their own. They could go for as long as they wanted.

“I’ll contact Carl and see how long we can use their place. That will decide us.” John texted the sub immediately. He got an almost instant reply, “We won’t be back in Greece for at least five months. Stay as long as you want. It would please us greatly.” Well that settled it, “Three weeks then Sherlock. We’ll leave right after the reception, as promised.”

Victoria sighed and conceded. The negotiations weren’t going too badly thought John. So far all John and Sherlock had to do was show up and get married. All the actual wedding preparations were going to be done by someone else. He thought for a moment and glanced down the table. Most of the cousins had finished their meals and had long since wandered away to do whatever it was they did when they weren’t at the table, “Mum what about Harry?”

Charity looked discomfited. John could see that his sister hadn’t improved at all, and in fact, probably had gotten worse. She’d never let them hear the end of it if she wasn’t allowed to come but she was also guaranteed to make problems the entire time she was here. “John I’ve asked if Clara can come and she’s agreed. She’ll keep Harry in line. It will be well.”

John was dismayed but the overture had already been made, he couldn’t take back his mother’s invitation to her ex-daughter-in-law. There was a chance of reconciliation and Harry had been so good when she and Clara had been freshly in love. Maybe there was a chance for everyone to be happy. John didn’t object so Charity looked relieved. Victoria looked a checklist she had been tending, “Well boys, that’s it for now. We can pick up tomorrow after breakfast.”

Hell was temporarily suspended and with resignation John let Sherlock simply lead him away for the night.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Put on your crispest shirt and your nicest shoes, we have a wedding to get to. Matching pants and socks optional.


	26. London

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and John have been steamrolled by their mothers into agreeing to a HUGE wedding. Could it get worse?

John and Sherlock lay in bed together and tried to just breathe. It had been two days now, two long painfully busy days. Their mothers were relentless. Hour after hour was consumed with wedding-centric activities. Once the wedding was over John wasn’t sure if they were planning to rule the world together or not but both mothers worked together as an irresistible team, crushing obstacles in their path with slippered feet. They were completely unstoppable. Today….today was going to be the worst so far. John heaved a shuddering sigh and clutched his sub tightly, eyes squeezed shut as he tried not to give into the black panic that was beginning to swell up, threatening to overflow and take him away. “John, shh, John, you’re stiff as a board. Breathe honey, just breathe.”

The endearment did it for John the way it always did. Sherlock had no idea he was even using the word when he was anxious for John. It triggered a wave of intense affection and relief and John relaxed. He tugged at Sherlock’s arm and the long lean man swung his leg over John’s hips and sat on him, a crooked grin on his face. He was overdue for a trim and his hair was unruly. “You look gorgeous Sherlock. Don’t let go, alright?”

Sherlock laced his fingers into John’s, his iridescent eyes burning fiercely, “I won’t John. If it gets to be too much safe-word and I’ll get you out somehow. I’m seventy-two percent sure I can produce a viable escape route.”

John exhaled raggedly as they looked at one another and simultaneously said, “Vatican cameos”. Sadly, they couldn’t rescue each other, not this time. All they could do was what they always did which was watch each other’s back and stay side-by-side, together. Finally there was no more time and with one last desperate hug Sherlock kissed John before getting off his lap and helping his lover to his feet. Sherlock bit his lip and John swallowed hard. Time to go.

It was three hours of confinement. It was three hours of torture. It was three painful hours of listening to Mycroft, Victoria, his mother and Greg all discussing John and Sherlock’s wedding. For three days both mothers had gone on an orgiastic quest to put together the most extravagant wedding they could envision and they were quite imaginative. 

Sherlock’s hand was holding John’s so tightly he could barely feel his fingers anymore and John was grateful. Sherlock had sacrificed everything and had not sat next to the window, instead giving John this slim escape from the purgatory they were trapped in. Mycroft’s car was more than large enough to accommodate their group but now Sherlock was sitting right next to Greg and John knew his lover was doing his level best to not touch the other man.

Victoria and Charity were coming to London. John was so grateful that 221 B was small and that 221 C was uninhabitable. They would stay with Mycroft instead. His home was huge and sprawling. John didn’t know how Greg felt about that but he wasn’t given much choice in the matter and had accepted the information with considerable grace. John just had to make it to London and then they would have a break. Still, it was three hours in an enclosed space when John was so tense he was ready to snap. Three hours. Three.

Sherlock was being a trooper. He deflected John’s mother time and again by offering her a never-ending supply of facts about materials and hazards until she was completely flustered by the potential lethality of party poppers and paper-ribbon streamers. Sherlock trotted out a whole series of not-exactly-gruesome-but-still-disturbing cases he had worked on before he’d met John that proved his facts. His mother-in-law-to-be stared at Sherlock and then at her son over and over again. Greg supplied corroborating details which just astounded John’s mother further. Victoria shook her head when she listened to the lengths Sherlock had gone to obtain solid proof, “Goodness Sherlock! Charity, I must thank you for John. Clearly my son has no common sense whatsoever! John dear? Thank you. Sherlock is an idiot.”

Sherlock made a discontented sound and John looked up at his lover, feeling very proud of his madman. He’d done all those amazing things even though he’d been high as a kite most of the time, starving because he didn’t care to feed himself and living mostly homeless because he couldn’t be arsed to arrange a place to rent. Mycroft had given Sherlock the ultimatum that had forced him off the streets and Lestrade had provided Sherlock with opportunity to occupy himself. All Sherlock had needed was for someone to appreciate him just as he was. Enter John and now look where they were, on the verge of marriage! “He’s less of an idiot that I am. I don’t know how he puts up with me really.”

“You really do make the best tea in the realm John. For that alone I would keep you forever.” Mycroft rolled his eyes but Victoria didn’t comment. She was too busy passing a tissue to Charity as both mothers mopped their misty eyes. Sherlock took the opportunity to sneak in a quick kiss which just made both mothers dab their eyes again.

Charity sniffled for a second, “John learned how to make tea from my mother when he was just a wee lad. She was always baking. She taught John how to make thumbprint cookies before he was even in school. There was never anything more adorable than watching my little John spoon out the jam. He loved jam so much!”

“He still does.” reported Sherlock and that made Charity tear up all over again as she beamed at her son. John didn’t know what to say especially when Sherlock twisted around in excitement, “John, you know how to make thumbprint cookies? Those little jammy thingies that are all crumbly and sweet? Why haven’t you made them at home? You’ve never baked! John!”

“When exactly was I supposed to bake and how Sherlock? We don’t own a cookie sheet. The closest thing we’ve got is your surgical tray which is filled with all your samples and you still haven’t explained why the inside of the oven is now blue!” Victoria giggled and watched Sherlock.

“John I can fix the oven and we can get cookie sheets. I’ll even do the shopping; it can’t be that hard can it?” John was not letting Sherlock go grocery shopping unsupervised! For one, it still wasn’t safe. For two, Sherlock had the attention span of a gnat when he was in the grocery store! Who knows what he’d actually end up bringing home if left to his own devices. For three, well, John was actually rather pleased that Sherlock wanted to do something as homey as making cookies together. It wasn’t chasing criminals through seedy alleys but it still made John’s heart beat a little faster.

“No, it’s not that hard. Fine Sherlock, we’ll make cookies sometime soon.” Sherlock looked ridiculously pleased with himself and sat back happily, allowing the mothers to return to their obsessive wedding planning. Sherlock helpfully provided links to wedding supply sites online but soon lost his mobile to his mother who began browsing around with abandon. Mycroft was forced to take notes which amused John and Greg both. “Manthea” thought John to himself and had to struggle not to laugh as he imagined Mycroft taking his PA’s place. He’d have to tell Sherlock when they were safely alone.

Time still dragged but now with cookies to look forward to John managed to politely include himself in the conversation, vetoing any live animals like wandering swans or peacocks. It became a game of give and take as Sherlock and John bartered back and forth with their mothers, hammering out the contract of a lifetime as concessions were taken and given back and forth through the last half hour of the trip. By the time they rolled to a halt in front of 221 Baker Street an interim accord had been reached. “Mummy I would like you and Charity to meet Mrs. Hudson.”

John helped both mothers out while Sherlock dashed inside to give Mrs. Hudson practically no warning whatsoever. John could hear her scolding Sherlock even as he pushed her towards the door. John smiled at their landlady who looked at everyone who had trooped in, “Mrs. Hudson, this is my mother, Charity Watson and this is Sherlock’s mother, Victoria St. Claire Holmes.”

“I’m ever so pleased to meet you! Both your sons are such good boys! I was just going to put a kettle on, would you like to come in for some tea?” Mrs. Hudson smiled sweetly at both mothers, her perky smile and kind eyes taking in the weary slump of the shoulders both women had.

“Mrs. Hudson, I have heard much about you over the years. I was about to take Charity to lunch. Would you care to join us for a ladies afternoon out?” Mrs. Hudson was as happy to accept as John and Sherlock were to be entirely abandoned at the bottom of the stairs as everyone trooped right back out again with Mrs. Hudson in tow.

They locked themselves into 221B. Sherlock went right out to the fire escape and had a cigarette while John made tea for both of them. He checked the fridge. They’d need to go to the store. Mrs. Hudson had kindly removed all the expired food from the shelves so John would need to replace a lot of things. She’d considerately provided a container of milk though and a loaf of bread so John made sandwiches too. Once their light lunch was accomplished John hurried Sherlock right to bed.

It had been too long. Victoria and Charity had kept both men busy every hour they had been awake. John felt as tired as he had when he’d gone to boot-camp. It felt like they had a million chores to accomplish that day, their reprieve only temporary and time was short. John made good use of it. Only half an hour later a slightly unsteady John was washing up as a sweat-soaked and flushed Sherlock caught his breath on the bed. John smiled easily now that all his stress had been delightfully dealt with, “We’ve got to get ready to go Sherlock. Come on. They’re going to meet us there so we have to go.”

Victoria wanted them to get started with deciding their wedding clothes. John couldn’t see how it could possibly take that long. Suits were pretty straight forward. You picked the color and the shape and let the people with the needles have at it. Easy. Mycroft had arranged the appointment and had pulled some favors to do so on such short notice. It was on Mycroft’s massive list of things to do which Mummy increased every day. 

John had taken care not to mark Sherlock at all and the tall man’s blush would fade before they got there but John had needed to have sex with Sherlock BEFORE he was forced to possibly watch him be mostly unclothed in front of both their mothers and now, probably Mrs. Hudson. John would have been so horrified to become aroused in front of all of them because frankly, even now it was going to be difficult to control his reactions. Sherlock finally dragged himself off the bed and showered quickly.

John got ready to shave. Inside his kit was a tab filled with small black dots. After a moment of thought John set out a microdot for Sherlock. They’d worn them nearly every day now and John wondered for a second if they were being over-cautious or paranoid. Then he tried to remember all the times he’d been kidnapped or Sherlock had been kidnapped and realized he had to round the number up because it was all getting mixed up in his head. That’s how often it happened. Once he realized he made up his mind to never stop using every sort of tracking device he could get his hands on and resolved to talk to Mycroft about getting more somehow.

It might mean working for MI6. John wasn’t sure about that. Maybe they could take John and Sherlock together. That would be cool. John lost himself in a few minutes of fantasizing about being a secret agent who worked with his secret agent husband on thrilling adventures around the world. Imagine the cases Sherlock would be privy to if they had access to the sorts of things MI6 got involved with. Theme music began to play in John’s head as he stood in front of the sink, razor in hand but shaving completely unaccomplished. “John, are you humming?”

Sherlock was just getting out of the shower and John realized he’d been standing in front of the sink the entire time and hadn’t moved a muscle, “Yeah, sorry love. Just got lost in thought there for a moment. We have a lot to do today.” Paperwork and fittings today, tomorrow cake samples and all sorts of horrors! Greg was under orders to NOT give them cases to work on until the mothers were satisfied.

Both men chose their most demure undergarments, both entirely in black though the subtle patterns on each man were reversed, John’s socks matching Sherlock’s pants and of course, the other way around. John dressed simply in trousers and a shirt, choosing a light jumper while Sherlock buttoned himself into another sinfully tight white shirt and one of his less decadent suits. Once their microdots were safely tucked into their hair both men gave each other one more loving kiss and then they were on their way.

The discrete business was tucked away on a quiet street. A small plaque on the door confirmed the address and when they went inside a tiny woman on tall heels ushered them into a large heavily draped and mirrored room. John was aghast. There was some kind of small stage in the middle and a series of couches ranged around it. On them were seated their mothers, Mrs. Hudson, Mycroft, Greg, Molly, AND Anthea. If Harry had been there it couldn’t have been worse. What was going on?

“John! Perfect timing. We’re all ready for you to begin.” Begin what? What was beginning? John took a frantic look around. The drapery wasn’t drapes – they were suits! Lots and lots of suits! All around John were dozens, possibly hundreds of suits. Oh god no! This wasn’t happening!

John felt dizzy and wanted to sit down but he wasn’t given a chance. Instead he was hurried off to one room while Sherlock was hustled off to another by two small teams of people who seemed intent on stripping him bare as soon as humanly possible. John was down to his pants in less than a minute and an array of suits being held up for him to choose from. They ranged in colors from gray to blue and John frowned. “Black and silver.” he barked and they scurried away but came right back with fresh offerings.

John closed his eyes and chose at random. Once he was forcibly dressed by the possible ex-offenders who worked there John was almost marched back out to the stage and put on display. A shake of heads had him taken away again. What? Wait. No! John wasn’t going to let everyone decide what he was going to be married in!

The second time round John took a harder look at the suits being proffered. He thought of Sherlock’s long lean body and how he looked in his posh suits. John thought of the secret agent fantasy he’d had not so long ago and narrowed his eyes. “I want to look like a Bond alright? Find me something you’d see in the films. These won’t do.” 

The suits in front of him were nice, if you worked in an office or were a banker or something. That’s not what John wanted. They’d have these suits forever and John would want to use them again. If he was going to have to choose a suit to get married in then John was going to make sure he looked as good as possible and that he had reason to use the wretched thing more than once. He was suddenly glad he wasn’t marrying a woman if only for the dress. He couldn’t imagine what people did with their gigantic dresses after they were married. At least Sherlock’s wedding suit would fit into their wardrobe along with the rest of their regular clothes.

The dressers came back with a more appropriate selection and John nodded. He’d try these ones on. Selecting the first of five John got into it and checked himself out carefully before allowing himself to be led to the stage. Sherlock was on it and he was wearing a long elegant jacket and neatly fitted pants. He looked John up and down carefully. Excusing himself Sherlock left the stage with his dressers and went back to his end of the salon. John got more approving nods this time but he wanted to check all his options out first.

This time when he came back Sherlock was waiting for him and now his suit was more like the first one John had tried, sleek but almost every day, a nice suit that you could plausibly use for an elegant evening out or a business meeting or a host of other reasons. Both men looked sharp but the suits weren’t quite right. They departed once again and sorted through their next set of choices.

It took longer than John would have thought. Several outfits in and he realized he had been calm and focused the entire time. Each meeting on the stage brought Sherlock and John closer and closer to realizing a solution to their suit conundrum. They need suits that complimented each man as well as their partners. 

Finally John found it. He’d tried on at least a dozen different outfits, looked at dozens more than that but he was pretty sure this was the one. It needed a bit of fitting here and there but they were already beginning to take notes so John looked at himself carefully and nodded. This was the one. When he was ready he went out and stood on the stage. He got a round of approving nods from everyone. Sherlock came out and his eyes were bright as he looked at John. John couldn’t say anything because Sherlock looked magnificent. They nodded in silent agreement. They were done.

Well they were done picking their clothes. John was surprised to discover that it was very late in the day now. With barely a chance to talk to Molly or say anything to anyone Anthea swept both Sherlock and John away to deal with all the paperwork necessary to make their marriage happen. It was stultifying boring and there were lawyers involved. John and Sherlock nearly got into an argument over money. “It’s not mine it’s OURS! Why are you being so pig-headed?”

“Pig-headed? I’m not a kept man Sherlock! I can’t take your family money. The Trust is yours, not mine.” Sherlock refused to listen to another word and signed everything in front of him recklessly, “Dammit Sherlock! I don’t want to be rich!”

“Too late, you are. Look, they’re doing that thing with that thing that makes it legal.” The lawyers were notarizing the document and John covered his face with his hands. Trust Sherlock to know everything about criminal activities but not know what notarizing was. It was indeed too late. John was now equal partners with Sherlock in everything and had full access to all of Sherlock’s considerable assets. 

John couldn’t even bring himself to grasp the enormity of being solvent for the rest of his life. Sherlock didn’t care about money. He’d always had it and it didn’t make him happy. Sherlock planned on living at 221 B until the building crumbled to dust because he was happy there. Now that John had full access to all the money he could take care of all the annoying things like bills and food, rent and cab fares. That made Sherlock happy too. All he wanted to do was The Work and to live with John forever.

After the paperwork it was time for dinner out with everyone at Angelo’s who almost wept with joy when he met both mothers. Their table was served personally by Angelo and he provided a lovely wine to go with the generous meal. Once again John was forced to leave a generous tip when Angelo refused to let them pay for their meal. Really, the man was too giving. John was very fond of him. 

Mrs. Hudson had Victoria and Charity in stitches recounted the many embarrassing situations she had found both John and Sherlock in. She was a veritable warehouse of blush-inducing memories. Mrs. Hudson had seen them at their very worst so many times and any other outsider would have looked askance at their antics but somehow she tolerated their unusual lifestyle. 

When Charity expressed concern over the two of them endlessly throwing themselves at criminals Mrs. Hudson just said, “Who else would you trust to set things right?” Sherlock was incorruptible from his devotion to the truth and John was just as hard-nosed when it came to doing what needed to be done. They couldn’t be bought. They couldn’t be intimidated. Between the two of them few criminals had a chance of getting away with much.

“I don’t want my son to get hurt.” said Charity finally and looked at John. Suddenly the atmosphere was serious and rife with feelings. John’s mother was looking at her only son with new eyes and she was frightened.

John didn’t know what to say but Sherlock did. He looked at John’s mother, “John’s already been hurt and terribly. He survived and became even greater than he was before. He’s a doctor, a soldier, a miracle. In the past I’ve hurt him terribly because I’ve been so weak and he’s taken me back because he’s so strong. John is so amazing that I will never in my lifetime be able to live up to the amount of honor he has earned. Mummy, I will try. Charity, I can’t promise John won’t get hurt. We do get hurt, a lot. It’s part of our work and we accept that. All I can promise is to try as hard as I can to keep John with me for as long as possible.”

It was on that somber note that the evening ended, their familial obligations fulfilled for another day. There would be more tomorrow and in the weeks that would follow. The three hour car ride that began today wasn’t the end. They wouldn’t escape this torment until they were winging their way to Greece. If John and Sherlock could survive the road to their vows they could survive absolutely anything. There were three and a half weeks left to go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clothes picked and legalities taken care of....


	27. Mishaps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victoria and Charity have entrenched themselves in London.

Days had gone by and they were itching for relief. Both John and Sherlock were getting snappy with everyone, even Mrs. Hudson and finally Greg intervened. He had a word with both Victoria and Charity, promising to keep both men as safe as possible but got their grudging permission to allow them to work a case.

It was only a four but who cared? Sherlock wasn’t much interested in art theft but it was better than sitting for hours and talking about the wedding AGAIN. Nine days had crept by with torturous slowness. John didn’t even want to get married anymore. Yes he still wanted to be married to Sherlock but now the mere thought of marriage made him shudder with distaste.

Victoria and Charity both had suffered through weddings not of their choosing. Both of them had been forced to make do with situations that were as far from their ideals as could be managed. Both of them recognized that they were doing the exact same thing to their sons but they couldn’t seem to help themselves anymore. John had thought the peak of misery had been reached when both women decided to stay in London, commuting back and forth to the family home whenever necessary. The worst thing in the world had resulted from their continued presence.

They met Kirk.

Kirk was an instant hit. Charity had thrown herself fully on the bandwagon in support of love however it manifested and accepted Kirk and Victor’s relationship without batting an eye. She thought it was very respectable to have to businessmen like themselves be romantically involved. It was sensible. Kirk managed to avoid telling her exactly what sort of business he did and he always dressed down, well, relatively down, whenever he came to visit.

Kirk had a vast assortment of flamboyant suits that he wore with the same flair he had when he strutted around in leather. He was charming and naughty but never crude. He had both women blushing and tittering all the time and only Mrs. Hudson had the sorts of stories under her belt that actually put a blush on Kirk’s face. John had laughed so hard, proud of their life-loving landlady and her all-embracing philosophy about love. Neither Sherlock nor John mentioned YouTube which earned them a specially baked batch of crumpets from Mrs. Hudson.

Victor seemed to exist in a state of continuing shock as he continued to struggle with the idea that he was no longer a free man, that he was in fact willingly bound to a vivacious and bombastic Dom who simply radiated an easy sort of power over everyone in his presence. When he charmed the stately Mrs. Holmes and the very prickly Mrs. Watson Victor was left gaping and helpless looking. There was no way Victor was ever going to escape the gravity well produced by Kirk’s animal magnetism.

Kirk knew people. All sorts of people. Designer type people. Kirk knew the sorts of people who had connections to all sectors of the city and the willingness to use them to smooth the way. People who would be MORE than willing to help the mothers produce a fantasy wedding for the men who had saved not only their money but their professional reputations when Sherlock had stopped Christopher Bell. Kirk introduced the ladies to them all and the city lay open for them to utilize as they wished.

John wanted to weep.

A month was more than long enough for the triumvirate made of Kirk, Mycroft and Anthea to produce nearly anything either woman could imagine. There would be professional photographers, videographers and floor managers. There would be wait-staff and an MC. A wedding planner had been engaged and was already encamped at the Holmes home, preparing the ballroom and grounds for The Big Day.

The wedding had taken on a life of its own so John and Sherlock ran as fast as they could through the streets of London to escape it. It was no use. The case was solved before midnight and there hadn’t even been bloodshed. Glumly both men made their way back to 221 B for tea and left-over take-away. With no case they’d be expected back at Mycroft’s tomorrow for who knew what reasons. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t like they even got a say in most of the decision making but somehow being there validated all of it.

The only thing John had managed to stay firm on was the live animal clause. Everything else was subject to continuous change until not even Sherlock could keep track of exactly what was happening when. Invitations had been sent out and the majority had already RSVP’d with eagerness. The lists were being drawn up and caterers engaged. The huge matter at the moment was the cake.

The cake.

The wretched stupid hateful why-do-we-need-one cake. They had toured every possible location that made wedding cakes in the Greater London area. Sherlock hadn’t minded but John did not want to taste another mouthful of any sort of cake ever. Sherlock had a huge sweet tooth so he was still game for that part but that was the only reason he hadn’t snapped before now. Ever since cooking shows had revealed the world of epic cake making both mothers had lusted for some kind of amazing cake to commemorate the historic occasion taking place so very soon.

Tiered cakes, flat cakes, shaped cakes, cakes with icing, cakes made of other cakes, cakes that incorporated weird props and special techniques. It made John dizzy and reminded him of when he first began to shop for pants. John had no idea that the world of cake was so expansive and complex. There was a fierce competitiveness in the industry and everyone seemed to be fighting for the chance to make their wedding cake for them. John now knew as much about icing as Sherlock did about ash. He wished he could delete it. He used to love cake.

Mummy had taken control of Mycroft’s life too. His home was now her home and he did her bidding whenever he couldn’t lose himself at work. Greg was treated kindly and nothing was ever asked of him. Victoria felt having to deal with his job and Mycroft was probably pressure enough and she very much liked Greg’s rough and candid ways.

They were just putting their dirty plates in the sink when Sherlock’s phone chirped. Looking at it quickly his face broke out in a huge smile, “Case John!” and they were off again. This time there was all the mayhem they could ask for as Sherlock sniffed out an entire gang of kidnappers. The target in question was a young exchange student who had no idea why they had been seized. His aggressors had mistaken him for the only son of a wealthy prince from one of the sandier countries and had hoped to ransom the boy for enough to cover their myriad student loans. They had the wrong student.

It had taken all night and lots of slogging through the sorts of places impoverished students liked to hang out but eventually Sherlock and John had found the group and their victim all tucked away in a relative’s empty rental unit. The trail had been creatively obscured but that had only intrigued Sherlock further until he unraveled their tangled web and made it straight to the front door before he called the Yarders.

All hell had broken loose before backup could arrive. They hadn’t even planned on letting themselves be known. They’d checked everywhere but missed the small camera disguised as a lawn ornament and they were jumped from behind by four of them. It was hardly fair.

John tried not to hurt them too badly but Sherlock didn’t pull his punches at all. They were just students and desperate for money. Still they were scrappy and both John and Sherlock got hit a few times before they managed to restrain the youth with zip-ties. The rest of the group were trying to flee when the Yard finally showed up but the entire group was rounded up and dawn saw them being processed into custody.

John and Sherlock went home bruised and happy. With the last of their energy they stripped off and fell into bed. John and Sherlock slept the whole day away, not hearing their mobiles ringing in their coat pockets. It wasn’t until the middle of the afternoon that a hard knocking at the door finally roused John. He answered the door in his robe and saw Victoria and Charity standing there with a sheepish looking Greg. “I told them you were working all last night.”

“Come in. Sorry. I’ll go get dressed. We didn’t get in until half seven.” John saw that the ladies were seated and Greg promised to put the kettle on but NOT make the tea so John hurried away. Sherlock was still lying on the bed motionless. “Get up. They’re here. Up.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Not going to.”

“Are too because we’re taking the night off. I’m going to tell them right now so get up and back me!” That got Sherlock’s attention and he pushed himself up enough to look at John.

“Are you serious or are you teasing me?” Sherlock looked suspicious.

“I’m serious and I wouldn’t tease you about this. Enough is enough. You and I are taking the night off. Now get up. I have to go talk to them as soon as I’m dressed.” John was going to be polite but firm. He couldn’t do this day after day. He was going crazy. Sherlock got out of bed and swiftly clothed himself. Victoria was already opening a file when John reappeared. “No.”

“Excuse me?” she was surprised and so was his mother. 

“Not tonight. I’m sorry but Sherlock and I need some time to ourselves! It’s been ages and I’m going to have to ask for the evening off. I promise we’ll be at your disposal tomorrow, I even promise to decide on the cake tomorrow but tonight, no more, please?” Charity pursed her lips and furrowed her brow. John braced himself for a tirade.

“You’re right John. We have demanded a lot from you. Tonight then. Charity? There are still flower arrangements to choose and we have the color palate already selected. Shall we?” With more grace than John had anticipated they left with Greg in tow. John shut the door and was grateful. 

Sherlock came out. “I got dressed for nothing!” Sherlock’s fingers were already working at the buttons on his shirt before John could stop him.

“No. We’re going to the shops. We can make cookies tonight.” That perked Sherlock right up and he almost dragged John out of the flat and right off to Tesco’s. It took a bit of searching around online to find a recipe they could manage so they wandered the aisles until they found everything, loaded up a cart and went home with a bottle of wine for good measure.

It was a lovely way to spend a bit of time together. Greg was still under the understanding that they were completely available for appropriate cases but he didn’t call. Sherlock was chatty as he helped shape each one, using his gigantic thumb to make the indent because he wanted extra jam in each cookie. John had set up an assembly line so that it didn’t take long before they had a large batch of cookies cooling on the kitchen table.

The flat was warm and was filled with the sweet fragrance of fresh baking. Sherlock was nearly shaking. He’d been stealing spoonfuls of jam all evening long and had eaten four cookies before they were cool. Sherlock had also consumed more than a few cups of sweet tea and John was getting concerned. Maybe cookies hadn’t been the best idea in the world. Sherlock moaned, “John I’m going to fly apart.”

John barely had time to shut the oven off before he was being hustled off to the bedroom by a suddenly amorous Sherlock. Sherlock needed him and John was only too happy to give his lover whatever he wanted. Once again Sherlock pushed John back onto the pillows so he could kiss his way over the doctor, small shivers rushing through his long limbs as he delighted in a sugar high of epic proportions.

It was if Sherlock wanted to eat John up. The smaller man was nipped and kissed everywhere before Sherlock allowed John enough time to barely prepare him. Almost too soon Sherlock had his knees spread wide as he lowered himself onto John. He moaned even as he winced in pain as he sheathed John in one long slow drop.

It was exquisite. John never got over the wonder he felt whenever he saw Sherlock lose himself like this. He was the only person in the world with whom Sherlock felt safe enough to abandon himself to pure sensation with. John loved watching Sherlock’s face. He was so expressive when he was like this. His eyes were shut but that took nothing away from the play of pleasure that captivated the soldier. John loved the flush on Sherlock’s cheek and the way sweat rolled down his skin as he panted and moaned softly.

Sherlock rode slowly for a long time and John was content to offer himself up to his sub for his pleasure. In this bed John never wanted Sherlock to ever feel like he needed to perform a role or meet a standard. He was absolutely perfect and John loved the unguarded man only he got to enjoy. When Sherlock lay John down he would always be encouraged to strip away all the many masks he wore so his soldier could bask in the pureness of Sherlock. Sherlock may have sought the control that his Dom offered but he also needed the freedom that his soldier trusted him with.

All the lovers they’d had in the past had never received one bit of the comfortable intimacy these two men shared with one another. There was no artifice in their love, no games, no tricks. There was only desire, love, lust and passion, all given freely to the other as a token of the bond they knew existed almost tangibly between them. The wedding was still in front of them but John realized in this moment that he and Sherlock had married long ago, twining themselves about the other until neither would survive alone. They weren’t codependent, they were different parts of a magnificent whole, grown together as their lives had shaped them exactly right to fit the other.

Suddenly the pressures of the wedding melted away and John was content. Let their mothers glut themselves on pomp and ceremony, John had no fears anymore. He would be with Sherlock and that’s all that mattered. John didn’t care what they did or where they did it, nothing mattered except being with Sherlock, living their lives together and simply loving him. Overwhelmed with feeling John finally pulled Sherlock down to kiss him softly, “I love you,” he whispered against Sherlock’s mouth, “I love you.”

“John.” Sherlock loved John and had infused that love into that single syllable. Every time Sherlock uttered his name he was telling the doctor he loved him. “John.” sighed Sherlock again and kissed John deeply. He was gasping into John’s mouth, his hands clutching John’s head as his hips began to ride with less grace. John sensed that Sherlock was near his finish so smoothly, John took over and allowed Sherlock to continue to rise. At the peak of it John forced his eyes open. He loved the way Sherlock looked, the pleasured rictus of his face, the way his fingers clutched and John and the sounds he made! It was enough to make the doctor dissolve into rapturous pleasure.

John clung to that memory as the days progressed. He had lost his stress over the wedding but Sherlock had not and in his anxiety Sherlock had become almost unbalanced in his jealous possession of John. John loved his detective to distraction, loved him with every particle of his being so he was almost hurt when Sherlock hissed over the wedding list. “Half your guests are old girlfriends! Why is Sarah coming?” Sherlock spit her name out, lacing it with venom and spite.

They were at Holmes’ manor for yet another review of the ever-changing plans. It was nearly lunch and they were waiting for everyone to gather, “Sarah was my boss and she’s still my friend Sherlock. You know this! I’ve been friends with Sarah for years and it’s never bothered you before.” Sherlock scowled mulishly over the guest list even though it was far too late to change it. Most guests had RSVPd and rooms had already been assigned. Sherlock was angry about it but refused to say another word, choosing instead to sulk around and cling to John whenever anyone at all came close to John. Sherlock was moodier than ever, waspish and unreasonable.

“What about all the others?” hissed Sherlock who was sounding more and more like a snake. John just looked at Sherlock and felt disappointed in himself. John should have remembered how insecure Sherlock was.

“I wanted them to see how far off the mark they were when they thought they could make me fall in love with them.” Sherlock’s jealous sulk evaporated and suddenly he was all smiles.

“Really John? You’re flaunting me?” John pulled his sub close and nodded, enjoying the almost sadistically happy smile on Sherlock’s face. “I bet they’re crushed. Heartbroken. I bet they thought you and I would never happen or that it would all fall apart. They tried their best didn’t they and they LOST.” Sherlock was now smirking smugly to himself as he cuddled John obsessively. John just smiled to himself and let Sherlock’s insanity flow over him like a comforting blanket. He loved Sherlock’s rampant mood swings and prickliness. Sherlock was a lot to handle and so far only John had proven capable of dealing with him. That made John proud and satisfied.

“I’ve always chosen you first Sherlock. You know it.” Sherlock did know it. How many dates had he scuttled with his incessant texting and interruptions, often dragging John out on cases right in the middle of John’s dates or right before his efforts had reaped a reward of any sort. 

“Will you always? One day you might miss everything you used to have.” Sherlock’s insecurity was deep seated and John understood. Sherlock still couldn’t quite believe in his own value but that wasn’t his problem, that was John’s and John didn’t care how long it took, one day Sherlock would know.

“I never had anything until I had you in my life Sherlock.” John said and pulled Sherlock in for a loving kiss. The tall man was flushed happily and his eyes were sparkling. He opened his mouth to speak but suddenly loud screams and shouts cut through their moment and shattered it.

John and Sherlock ran towards the sounds without a word. They were followed by a handful of cousins as well. John wished he had his gun on him but he had not brought it to lunch. It was packed in his suitcase. The shouts were coming from the kitchen and they were strident now. The men burst through the doors and into the kitchens where a small group of people were clearly fighting over someone.

A teary-eyed woman stood pressed against a stand-up freezer, her apron being pressed into service as a kerchief while two young men struggled to get at each other. Several other kitchen staff were trying to separate the hot-headed youth but were having only a minimum of success. Suddenly one of the men managed to swing a connecting punch which threw his rival backward. The young man’s stagger was enough to jolt another man who had been leaning forward to pull the pair apart causing him to startle and slip. His panicked grab upset a wheeled cart filled with produce which rolled forward just enough to nudge a tall tower filled with rather sharp cutlery that was waiting to be stored away now that it had been cleaned and polished. John and Sherlock watched in almost comedic horror as the chain of events unwound in front of them.

The tower wobbled and then John saw it. A small bolt popped out, almost innocently ejecting itself onto the floor. The tower sagged and began to tip right toward the weepy young woman. John didn’t hesitate. He darted away from the group he was with and snatched the woman out of the way, spinning her clear of the crash of metal. He gasped as he felt a red hot sear slash across his shoulder. “JOHN!” shouted Sherlock and suddenly John was being pulled away from the woman by Sherlock who had a look of horror on his face, “Honey you’re bleeding!”

John checked the young woman. She was shocked had stopped crying as she looked at the mess of cutlery that had nearly struck her, the corner of the ruined metal tower now graced with traces of John’s blood. She fainted and Sherlock caught her with irritation. “For goodness sake, someone check on her! John is bleeding!”

Sherlock unceremoniously dumped the woman into the arms of one of the combatants and turned to John. They’d gathered quite a crowd of onlookers as Sherlock peeled John out of his jumper and tugged his shirt off to quickly examine the wound. “It will need two or three stitches John.” 

Carlton was there with two or three of the interchangeably beautiful cousins, all of them looking paler than normal as they took in the crimson that stained John’s shoulder. Greg was with them and he looked at John with concern. John grinned back at the DI, “Tis but a scratch.” and Greg just howled while John chuckled happily. He’d been waiting AGES to use that line. Sherlock looked confused but just pressed a clean cloth to the cut and made John precede him to the interim nursing station.

John had prudently put one together, reasoning that with as many guests as were attending someone was sure to get hurt or ill and John just felt better knowing he knew what was on hand. They were followed by a clucking cluster of cousins who gabbled in mild panic about John’s terrible wound.

Sherlock applied a numbing cream after he cleaned the scratch carefully and while the cousins looked on Sherlock neatly stitched John up. John just sat there patiently and let the pain happen. Flinching would only make Sherlock poke him accidentally and it always upset him so John held very still until he was neatly patched and bandaged. He kissed Sherlock, “Thanks love. You’ve got a good hand, I barely felt that.”

John was ready to change his shirt and go back to lunch. The cousins all looked concerned, “Will we need to postpone the wedding until John is well enough?” What were they talking about?

Sherlock looked at his cousins with disdain, “My John doesn’t need to postpone anything. If we had to roll ourselves to the alter in wheelchairs whilst being bound in casts from head to toe we would still be getting married on the appointed day. This is nothing. John is very durable.”

They looked skeptical so John just got up and pulled his ruined jumper on. “It’s fine. Really, I barely noticed it.” He took Sherlock’s hand and led his sub away to lunch, almost smiling as he heard their loud whispers. Sherlock was almost but not quite strutting as John pulled him down the hallways and back to their suite. John knew they’d be missing lunch because Sherlock was giving him that crooked little smile. Stitches or not, John was more than happy to allow Sherlock to take him back to their room, firmly lock the door and lay John down one more time.


	28. Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys have had a bit of a tiny break and everything should be going according to plan. It won't but it should.

John woke up stiff. His back ached and he was having difficulty breathing. Where was he? Prying his eyes open was painful and John could only manage one. His head was pounding and his mouth tasted like he’d spent the night licking out garbage bins. What had happened?

John sat himself painfully up and looked around. He was in the center of a dim round chamber and it had a stone and dirt floor. John had never been in a room carved right out of stone. There wasn’t a window of any sort and the chamber was sealed shut thanks to a rather sturdy gate on the ceiling. It was woven together like bars to let in air and light but looked organic. What the utter fuck? John wracked his brains and tried to think. It hurt. His head hurt so much.

Someone had slipped him a mickey. The last thing John remembered was going to their tedious rehearsal dinner. Somewhere after the tiramisu John’s memory faded out. Whatever he’d been given came with a dash of amnesia. His head continued to pound but the pain was now being taken care of by the rush of fury that filled the doctor. Someone had taken John from Sherlock and had locked him into this pit! Where the fuck was he and WHO would have done this?

The chamber was empty except for the heavy blanket John had been on. Who would have wanted to do this and who would have the opportunity to get past both John and Sherlock’s watchful eye? They’d been having a pleasant evening. Close family had begun to gather before the actual ceremony. Holmes manor was filled to the rafters with people and Sherlock must be hysterical by now.

John wasn’t wearing a microdot. He distinctly recalled removing it as he got ready for the rehearsal dinner but he didn’t recall putting one back on. He had felt secure enough deep inside Holmes territory to go without it. Sherlock would be looking for him, John was sure of it. The microdot would have made it so much easier. John didn’t even remember if he’d made Sherlock wear one, not that it mattered. John didn’t have his mobile on him. In fact he had almost nothing on him except his pants and his vest. WHAT THE FUCK? 

John looked up at the gate carefully. It was sealed with an ancient and heavy lock and even if it wasn’t it was too high for John to reach unless he jumped. It looked old, the wood it was clearly made of thick and gray with age. John smelled the air. It was very musty and damp. There was light coming from somewhere, John could see it through the bars but after an hour he determined that it was natural in source because it changed. Fuck. That gave him no better idea of where he was than before. John was so thirsty but at least the throbbing in his head seemed to be leaving and that was a relief. He was getting cold too so he took up the heavy blanket and wrapped it around himself as best he could, shivering. The stones around him radiated a ceaseless chill. It was damp now so there must be a lot of moisture wherever he was. John cursed again.

John didn’t know who had taken him. He checked himself over but apart from tenderness probably produced from being dropped in here he was unharmed. John didn’t want to risk shouting in case that resulted in more trouble than a mostly naked and entirely unarmed soldier could deal with. His stomach was upset and the air was rank with mold and dust. The headache eventually departed entirely but that just made John extra aware of his extreme thirst. Finally he couldn’t stop himself, “Is there anyone there?” he called but he got no answer. There were no sounds at all, just silence and the growing darkness. John huddled under the blanket and shivered some more. He balled himself up as small as he could and tucked the edges in tight to keep in as much warmth as possible. He needed water. He could survive a long time without it but combined with the cold, John’s chances weren’t looking very good.

Hours rolled by and nothing happened except that John’s thirst grew and grew, now matched with a desperate need to use the bathroom. Finally, after forcing himself to hold back as long as possible, John hollowed out a small depression with his bare fingers and was compelled to use an edge of the chamber that was slightly lower than the others. Ashamed of the necessity he sacrificed his vest to clean himself up with and buried the mess as best he was able.

John’s shoulder ached. The damp was no good for the old wound and he was beginning to seize up painfully. Eventually the faint light in the ceiling faded and it was night. John huddled in the dark silence, the putrid air now choking him. Over and over again John went over his memories, trying to think of any remaining enemy or foe that could have slipped past their many defenses to kidnap John. He needed a drink so badly. He’d urinated several times and he knew he was dehydrating. His stomach was no longer upset but now it was twisting with hunger as he shivered in the darkness.

John tried to sleep but he was becoming feverish with a combination of the pervasive damp, cold, hunger and thirst. His headache was back and it throbbed. John lost himself in memories of Sherlock, his eyes, his smile, the way his skin tasted, everything about his lover to distract him from the discomfort. Time trickled on by and John covered his nose with the blanket, trying to draw in air that wasn’t heavy with dust and mildew. He thought he heard something but it could have been anything. He wasn’t sure now.

A long time drifted by and John was startled into awareness. Had he heard something? Was someone coming back for him? His voice was harsh with the lack of moisture but he tried to call out, “Hello? Someone? Hello?”

Distantly he heard Sherlock shouting, “JOHN! JOHN, KEEP TALKING. HONEY I CAN’T FIND YOU!” if John had the moisture to spare he would have wept with relief. Sherlock was close by.

“I’m here. I’m here. I can’t see anything. I’m underground. The door is made of wood and it’s about three feet across. There’s a big metal lock on it. I can’t see right now, it’s dark. I’m here. Sherlock! Come get me. I’m here.” John wasn’t sure if he was shouting or whispering. He scratched at the stone walls, hoping to keep making enough noise to lead his lover to him. Finally he could hear him. He could see him! Sherlock was rattling the gate above him and kicking it, a light shining next to him. A flashlight? “I can’t reach it from in here Sherlock. I’m so thirsty. Head hurts.”

“Honey I’m right here. I’m right here, stay with me John! I’ve sent Greg back to get help. We’ve been looking for you for the last twenty-two hours.” Sherlock sounded raspy and anxious. “John, honey are you hurt?”

“Thirsty. Might have a fever. Need food. I’m cold. I might need a hospital.” John hated the hospital but he needed to be checked out. It was so hard to talk but he made himself. There were shouts and suddenly a lot of light was pouring through the gate. John heard several loud noises and suddenly there was a whoosh of air as the heavy gate was pulled open and somehow Sherlock was beside him. With tenderness Sherlock checked John over, “Not hurt. Water. Need water.” Someone had the foresight to bring him bottled water and as soon as he could John drank as much as he could safely manage and passed right out in Sherlock’s arms.

John came around a few minutes later and realized he was being carried by Sherlock and that John recognized where he was, “We’re still at Holmes manor.” he whispered hoarsely. Who could have betrayed them here? Sherlock nodded tersely but didn’t halt his swift walk as he hurried John down the long corridors amidst a small crowd of people including Greg, Mycroft, Carlton as well as a large slice of the cousins and at least three members of the Yard. John closed his eyes and let himself drift away, coming back in a roar of anxiety when he was being laid on a stretcher and loaded into an ambulance, “Sherlock!”

“I’m here honey, I’m right here. It’s okay John. I won’t leave your side for a moment, I promise.” He felt long cool fingers caress his temples even as the paramedics worked on John. John let himself slip away again. He was so tired and it was so very cold.

John woke in a small private room. He was deliciously warm and cozy, headache completely gone and he felt wonderfully lazily rested. He looked down. His lap was filled with Sherlock’s curls as his lover lay slumped over the bed, dead to the world and drooling on John’s blanketed thigh. Their hands were tangled tightly together and Sherlock’s other arm was wrapped around John’s hips. Lifting his hand carefully John ran his fingers through those raven curls he loved so dearly and giggled when Sherlock startled awake with an undignified snuffle, “John?”

“Hey gorgeous, I’m very happy to see you.” John was being smothered now when Sherlock climbed swiftly onto the bed and kissed him ferociously. Sherlock hugged John tight to him and lay flat on top of the doctor, pinning him down. “Hey, it’s okay love. I’m okay.”

“You almost weren’t John. I’m going to call the doctor in and have you checked over but you’ll be able to see me the entire time.” with another kiss Sherlock went to the door and peeked out, gesturing imperiously at whoever was down the hallway. A warmly smiling older gentleman came in and checked John over, both of them having a brief discussion about John’s condition which was stable. “A touch of hypothermia and a bit of dehydration. We kept you overnight to watch you but apart from some rest you should be good to go.”

A nurse came in and disconnected John from everything as Sherlock waved in someone bearing gifts. Greg came inside with a tray containing soup, tea, toast and all manner of delicious nibbles. John was RAVENOUS. He ate slowly, not wanting to make himself ill but still stuffed in every crumb he thought he could manage. Greg and Sherlock allowed John time to eat, sitting off to the side and scrolling through their mobiles while John tried not to make embarrassingly erotic sounds as he tasted the flavorful broth. Finally John set his teacup down and sighed in contentment. He was feeling almost normal now. “Okay, now you can tell me what happened.”

After all the trauma the three of them had gone through together they had developed a sense of timing. John knew they knew what had happened but it was going to upset him so before they said anything they allowed him time to eat untroubled. John knew he was about to be upset but also knew he really needed food so he put it out of his mind for the moment and fed himself. 

Sherlock was jabbing at his mobile with angry restraint and using his own set of deductive skills John was able to withhold his flinch when Greg looked at him with sympathy, “It was Harry. She thought she’d play a prank on you. She got nice and drunk, slipped you both something she bought off the streets and walked you right out of your room into a sealed off part of the manor. She’d looked at all the floor-plans Victoria had out and thought it would be funny to make Sherlock find you except that she passed out, didn’t remember where she had left you and then she fucking bolted. If your mum hadn’t wanted her for a dress-fitting we never would have known she had left. They caught her outside London trying to pawn her wedding ring for enough money for an airline ticket to who-knows-where.”

John felt a pang of pity for Clara who had made such an effort to come to his wedding and keep Harry out of trouble. When she learned that Harry was willing to sell the ring she had given her, Clara would be crushed all over again. John really liked his ex-sister-in-law and would have happily swapped her for Harry any day of the week. Sherlock was so angry he’d passed beyond his ability to manifest emotion and his voice was flat and cold when he said, “She put you in an oubliette. That part of the manor hasn’t been used for generations. No one would have found you. That’s what oubliettes are for.” His voice was icy and John looked sharply at his lover.

“What did you do to her?” Greg got up and walked out of the room abruptly and shut the door firmly. Sherlock waited until it was closed, “Sherlock?”

“I would have killed her John. She ran, knowing full well that you would die if no one knew where to find you. I would have killed her slowly. I…was harsh but I swear I did not lay a single finger on her.” John closed his eyes. Sherlock didn’t need to become physical to make an impact. He had probably shredded Harry to pieces. “She laughed John. She laughed when she was caught, like it was a game. She didn’t even care to try and remember where she’d left you. She only said it was in the house somewhere and she wouldn’t even tell us that for hours. It was only by chance that we noticed the seals on the lower level door had been broken and only then did she confess.”

John felt sick now and felt the last bit of affection he’d had for his sister crumple away. Harry now resided in the same part of John’s memories that Mary did, right where her unthinking malice deserved to keep her. John kept his eyes shut and felt Sherlock’s long fingers brushing away the tears that fell. His own sister! The stab of betrayal suddenly made John’s chest heave and then Sherlock was all over him again. “Where is she?”

Sherlock didn’t want to look at John and his jaw worked rhythmically as he swallowed. “She’s in jail John. She’s been charged with attempted murder. This wasn’t an accident John. She deliberately drugged us, took you from me and left you to die in the fucking dark!” John felt grief for a moment. His mother must be devastated. Sherlock must have been so worried.

John wrapped his arms around his lover and breathed him in, both men steadying themselves with one another. “I’m sorry Sherlock. Are you alright?” Sherlock knew John wasn’t apologising for being kidnapped. John was sorry because Sherlock had been made to worry and neither of them liked that. Sherlock just lay down on John all over again and tucked his face into John’s neck, breathing quietly for a long time. John ran his hands up and down Sherlock’s back, soothing both of them with the contact. “I thought about you the entire time.”

“I started looking for you the second I awoke and I didn’t stop until I found you.” John believed it and had trusted that Sherlock would find him eventually. John reached up into his hair and felt the comfortingly familiar bump of a microdot. He ran his fingers through Sherlock’s hair and found his and was reassured. Sherlock had clearly replaced them at his first opportunity. “She didn’t know about them. Harry just took your phone out of spite. She’s unbalanced.”

John believed it. His sister had been on a downward spiral for a long time. He’d had hopes for her with Clara but clearly Harry had allowed her weaknesses to rule her. Sherlock pulled back and looked at John, for the first time sympathy was on his face. Sherlock had demons too, addictions he’d never fully shake but for the love of John. Harry had that with Clara but had still made the decisions that had led to this. John was struck with the tragedy of it all, feeling nothing but pity for Harry who would now spend her life without the thing she had preferred over the love of her wife or her only brother, “How’s mum?”

Sherlock grimaced a bit, “She’s praying a great deal. They’re in the waiting room if you want to see them.” John didn’t really want to but he had no real reason not to let his mother see that he was alright. Before he answered he just kissed Sherlock again, both men suddenly caught in a desperately passionate kiss, “I love you John! I’m terrified when we’re apart. I can’t think.”

“I know love, I know. I’m here. You found me. You always do.” John reaffirmed his faith in his mad detective, there was no one John trusted more. It wasn’t Sherlock’s fault that the enemy that had parted them was John’s own blood, “I’m sorry Sherlock, I am.”

“You didn’t make her do this John. For whatever perverse reason she had come up with Harry decided to do this all on her own. This was premeditated. Maybe not the location where you were left but she bought whatever it was she gave us BEFORE she got here. She planned this John! She left me on the floor of our room with your clothes in a heap. She stripped you and walked you nearly naked through the whole house while you were drugged and left you locked in a dark hole as a joke. I wanted to KILL her and I still do. I’m sorry John. I do.”

John wasn’t exactly adverse to the idea of Harry being dead, “I don’t want her blood on your hands love. Harry will bring herself to her own sad end. We won’t have to do a thing. Everyone has tried to help her and she’s thrown it all back in our faces time and again.” John wasn’t going to help Harry. She had almost killed him for a laugh. She was lucky to be going to jail. Everyone else who had tried to kill John was thoroughly dead. He shuddered as he thought of the chilled darkness he’d sat in. Sherlock nuzzled him comfortingly and John sighed as he relaxed into Sherlock’s embrace. It was comforting to be pressed down so heavily, the heat from Sherlock’s long thin body soaking into John and bringing him back to life. 

Finally Sherlock kissed John one last time and got off the bed, helping John get up. There were clean clothes waiting so John washed up at the sink and dressed. He glanced down and Sherlock tweaked up his trouser legs and John grinned. They matched, his pants decorated with little skulls and small cross-bones were on the tops of Sherlock’s socks. “Good choice love.”

“Thank you John. One second please.” Sherlock tugged John’s trousers down for a second and sucked a hickey onto the inside of John’s hip. John grinned and stroked his fingers over Sherlock’s curls as he enjoyed the marking. “That will tide me over until we have some proper privacy.”

“I don’t mind.” said John. It didn’t take long before Sherlock was standing once again and fastening John’s trousers closed. The love-bite stung a bit but pleasantly so and gave John a sense of being focused and grounded. John realized that he’d felt disconnected since he’d first woken up in the dimness but suddenly he felt real again, alive and aware. With a shuddering breath he hugged Sherlock one more time and nodded permission to let everyone in.

Charity was filled with tears. John held his mother as she wept in his arms, touching his face and gabbling her words, “Oh John! I don’t know what to say! What can I do? What should I do?”

John looked at his mother. Victoria was hovering anxiously in the background, clearly not knowing if she should say or do anything. John pushed his mother back, “There’s nothing to do mum. Harry is in jail and that’s where she’s going to stay. It’s best. Really.” Charity cried loudly but didn’t protest. Harry would be safer in jail, miserable but safer. The chances of Sherlock killing her while she was in prison were substantially less than if she were freely available elsewhere. John knew his lover was an inferno of vengeful rage right now. Harry was best left where she was.

Victoria stepped forward finally, “John. Everyone would understand if you needed some time, we can put everything off until another day.” There was no way in HELL John was going through the wedding preparations a SECOND time! There were only a few days left until the wedding and John already felt alright enough to go through with it. It would be awkward certainly what with his sister being arrested for attempted murder but John wasn’t going to let Harry ruin everything. He was alive and so was Sherlock so they were going to get married. John would take another day in the hole before he went through the whole cake-tasting thing again.

John squared his shoulders and spoke firmly, “Once I’m signed out of this place I’ll be good to go Victoria. Like Sherlock said, I’m durable. I can’t say I’m very happy about what happened but there are no lingering injuries, I don’t need therapy or surgery so there’s really no reason to put it off, not unless Sherlock want to.” 

Everyone looked at Sherlock who looked startled, “Why would I want to put it off? If I’d had my way John and I would have been married years ago. All this delay is becoming troublesome.” Charity was the only one still looking teary and flustered and Sherlock surprisingly relented, “Harriet had every opportunity Charity, she had the support of everyone around her. You can only hope that she can one day find a reason to be better, the way I have found my reason. I could have been in Harriet’s place many times. God knows Mycroft deserves more than a hole in the ground sometimes but I’m glad I haven’t done anything to make my John ashamed of me. I couldn’t bear it. John keeps me right and I thank you for him. I want to marry your son as soon as we can because I love him more than anyone else in the world. Harriet will not stop that from happening.”

John was filled with devoted pride as he listened to Sherlock. They weren’t going to let Harry take away one single good thing. She had her path to walk now just like they had theirs. Charity looked up at the tall man in front of her, saw how fiercely he loved her son and nodded, “You’re a good boy Sherlock. I’m sorry for what my girl did. She’s always been her own worst enemy. John, will you be alright? This has all been so terrible.”

John looked at his mother. She was pale and wan, exhausted and wrung out. He pulled her in and hugged her tightly, “I’ll be alright mum. I’ve got Sherlock and that’s all I need to be okay. I’m okay.” John’s mother looked up at him like she’d never seen him before and perhaps she hadn’t. John stepped away from her and back into Sherlock’s arms. “This wasn’t pleasant mum but I’ve been through worse. Maybe one day I’ll tell you those stories but frankly, I’d rather not get into it all right now.”

Charity looked stunned and teary but Victoria laid her hand on the shorter woman’s shoulder, “He is a soldier Charity. Look at the pair of them. My little boy has never been so strong and I suspect, neither has yours.”

“My wee Johnny boy! You have grown to be a fine, fine man. I’ll expect to hear those stories sometime. Now let’s go.” Sherlock took John’s hand firmly in his and held the door open for Victoria and Charity. He kissed John quickly one more time before joining Greg and Mycroft in the waiting room while John was signed out of the private clinic he was in. With a sigh John let Sherlock escort him anxiously to the car that waited to bring them back to Holmes manor. He could not wait for their honeymoon. Getting married was a lot more work than John ever realized.

When they got back John found he was a celebrity. Of course everyone knew that he had been kidnapped, the entire household had turned itself upside down to find him. News that Harry had done it had gotten out and everyone wanted to see how John was doing. Sherlock finally shouted at the crowds, telling them to shut up and listen, “It happened and it’s over. We’re still getting married so I’d appreciate everyone not mentioning it to us, please! Enjoy your stay. We’ll see you tomorrow. John needs to rest.”

It was late in the afternoon but John let himself be led away by an extremely protective Sherlock. The detective texted Mycroft for food and grimaced about it, “We were roofied in our family home. I can’t trust anyone!” John was pretty sure Mycroft wouldn’t poison them, at least, not until after the wedding and Mummy’s prohibition was lifted. John also figured that if Mycroft DID try to drug them that it would count for at least three of his five free passes. John sighed and added another one for Mycroft and Greg’s interventions with John’s rescue. He had no doubt they were as instrumental in his retrieval as Sherlock had been.

“I think we’re okay right now. I don’t even remember how Harry got us. It’s all blurry.” John had a big blank spot in his memory and it troubled him more than being left in a hole had. Sherlock was pacing around and John realized he had the same chunk of time missing. For Sherlock it must be maddening.

“I remember her toasting us at the table. She must have poured for us. I never expected to be attacked at my own rehearsal dinner! What will happen when we get married?” John was already on the verge of total paranoia so he wasn’t exactly reassured when Mycroft and Greg showed up with a trolley.

Greg looked at both of them, “I made these sandwiches and I’m eating them with you so no, they’re not drugged. I made the tea too, or at least, I boiled the water in the carafe. Everything should be safe. Harry was never in the kitchens from what we can determine.”

John grimaced at the mention of his disgraced kin. “Thanks Greg. I’m starving again.” John picked a small stack of sandwiches up from the mountain available, brewed tea for everyone with the generous supplies on hand and sat down for a simple meal. Sherlock ate quickly and John realized he probably hadn’t eaten at all until now.

Mycroft ate neatly and tidily and clearly only because Greg had laid food onto a plate and put it in front of him. When they were done John looked at Mycroft who looked right back at John. For the first time John participated in a non-verbal debate with Mycroft. John wanted extra-protection and Mycroft had it. If Mycroft gave it to John then John would owe Mycroft but John was willing to pay the price but John didn’t come as a solo package….and this is where negotiations fell apart. Mycroft looked coolly at John. “No.”

“I think you mean yes.” said John.

“The realm would crumble.” spit Mycroft.

“You don’t even need to do it until after Greece. It’s the only way.” shrugged John. Sherlock was looking curiously at his Dom.

“In order to be effective it needs to happen as soon as possible and I’m afraid the answer is no!” Mycroft set his jaw stubbornly while Sherlock and Greg exchanged mystified looks. John waited, looking calmly at Mycroft who just began to shift around. “I said it would crumble.”

“It won’t crumble, it will hardly notice. It will be easier and you know it so let’s just shake hands and plan for the first day back, alright?” Mycroft had never looked so sour but he extended his slim elegant hand and shook John’s firmly.

“Someone will be here in a while to see to you. Good evening Captain, Sherlock.” Mycroft practically stormed away in a temper and Greg walked off with him, still looking confused.

“John what just happened?” Sherlock looked apprehensive and rightly so. He would not be pleased with this bit of news.

“We have a new job love. We start as soon as we get back from our honeymoon.” Sherlock scowled as he understood.

“I am NOT working for MYCROFT! I REFUSE!” he shouted, jumping up.

“It’s not his division and there’s an immediate payoff.” John looked up at Sherlock who was on the edge of a major pout, “We’re going to be implanted with trackers okay? We won’t have to worry about microdots or the like, we’ll be tracked all the time. We work together, always. We solve mysteries, do The Work but not just in London.”

Sherlock was trying not to look pacified even though his toes were nearly curling in excitement. He needed to counterattack somehow. He was incapable of just accepting something but this was better than even Sherlock could resist. “I get to choose our cover names. I’m not letting some minion of the ministry give us ridiculous nicknames.”

“We’ll work out all the details when we get back love. Until then, we’ll be protected more than ever and that’s what’s important.” John took Sherlock in his arms and looked up at his lover, “You know I’d never make you do something I thought you’d really hate. We love doing The Work but there are only so many cases London can provide us. This will be good for us and Mycroft can continue writing off our medical bills.”

Sherlock still managed to produce a pout, “I wanted you to be my own private double oh, not everyone else.”

John kissed Sherlock’s pout, “I’m always yours Sherlock and you'll be mine. Think of the gadgets. Think of the access to secret archives you’ll have, all the research labs? Imagine all the things you’ll get to see and do, all the things we’ll learn together. Mycroft has to take both of us together or there’s no deal. That’s what we want right? To be together?”

“Yes John, together, always.”

And that was that.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ....it's almost over


	29. Finally

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Sherlock's friendship has had many ups and downs. Beginning a romantic relationship with one another has had many pros and cons. They've loved and they've suffered for it but would do all of it again gladly to end up where they are. This is it. Finally.

John stood there while a small group of people fussed over him. As soon as he had showered this morning John had been attacked by a mob of people determined to force feed him, give John a shave, a touch-up trim as his hair was subtly styled and his nails buffed. He felt a bit silly. He was not nervous. He refused to be nervous. His palms were sweating but that was NOT nerves. It was warm in here, that’s all. He was thirsty but didn’t want to need the bathroom at an awkward moment so he was sucking on an ice-chip. Someone was fooling with his hair again. John wished they’d leave him alone.

John was now wearing his black wedding suit with a crisp white shirt and brand new patent leather shoes. He felt good about how he looked. The suit was simple, ordinary yet somehow more. He knew Sherlock liked everything John was wearing and that’s all that mattered. They were wearing complimentary suits and matching socks and pants so John felt okay. Really okay. Not like he needed to vomit, not at all. No.

It was so hot in here! Why weren’t the flowers wilting? Why were there so many flowers anyway? It was cloying. John looked at himself in the full-length mirror. He sighed. The suit was gorgeous but nothing would make John tall and elegant like Sherlock who was sex on two legs in a fine suit. John got another ice-chip and told himself how nervous he wasn’t.

The room was ridiculous. It was too feminine, too over-the-top. Sherlock called it ‘the bridal suite’ even though he was going to be the one walking down the aisle. Every surface was draped with richly colored silks until it seemed that John was inside a gently colored rainbow tent. He shouldn’t have let the mothers choose everything but he had really given up after the first week, beaten down by the endless changes and choices. John ignored the décor and breathed carefully with his eyes closed. He nearly crawled up the tent wall when Greg appeared with a cup of ginger tea. “Jesus John! Calm down. Here, drink this.”

“I hate ginger tea.” John drank it anyway. He was parched because of how warm the room was NOT because he was nervous. The pleasant flavor sweetened his mouth and the active components settled his turbulent stomach.

“The first time I got married I thought I was going to have a heart attack. The second time I got married I nearly sweated my way through my suit. Don’t worry, you’ll be fine.” how was that information supposed to relax John? John wondered how Greg would be during his third wedding when he was in John’s shoes and standing in front of the biggest group of influential everyone ever assembled. A month had been more than long enough for Mummy and mum to invite half the country. John was POSITIVE Mycroft was just waiting for the perfect moment to propose to Greg, sometime that would be just theirs and not lost in the furor of John and Sherlock’s marriage. Then Greg would be boldly in the public eye and known by everyone in charge of everything and have to stand there in a bespoke suit and wait in a hothouse. John would see how well Greg dealt with THAT.

John felt the spot at the top of his neck well within his hairline. “I feel weird, like I can’t think straight. I don’t know why I’m nervous.” DAMMIT! John was NOT nervous! He hadn’t meant to say that.

“Everyone is keyed up. You can’t help but respond to it. It’s making everyone edgy. Weddings are like that. At least you only have to stay for a while. The party tonight should be something else.” John could not WAIT to get out of here. Ever since he’d been kidnapped last John had needed some private time with Sherlock, just an afternoon or an evening, but it hadn’t happened. Everyone wanted a piece of their time, not leaving the pair alone until late in the evening as they visited with one small group after another. The manor was now full of John’s relatives as well as Sherlock’s but the interactions had all been pretty positive for the most part though John had noticed one or two of the Holmes’ cousins walked a bit warier now when they were approaching a cluster of the rather pugnacious Watsons.

It made John think about how he and Sherlock got along with one another. John fretted that he wasn’t enough for Sherlock, not enough to keep that brilliant mind occupied. John then had a hard time sleeping. While Sherlock slept tucked against his side John had spent the entire night thinking of how he could make Sherlock’s life better, what John could do to help Sherlock in whatever way he might need it. He’d made a lot of promises to himself, binding himself tighter than any vow he’d be asked today. John would never fail his Sherlock, not if it cost him his final breath.

This room was ridiculously warm. It must be all the fabrics. They had to be trapping the heat or something or maybe the decomposing flowers were putting out heat or something. John wasn’t sure if that’s what happened but he made a note to ask Sherlock later on if John didn’t pass out from the heat and NOT nerves. “Who’s with him now?” John had somehow thought Greg would be with Sherlock but instead the DI had shown up to help John. John hadn’t designated a best man who was traditionally the groom’s best friend. John was marrying his best friend. Greg felt a fatherly twinge towards John and Sherlock both and had come with tea to sooth the doctor before he snapped.

“Mrs. Hudson. You know she’s the only one who can deal with him when he’s being impossible.” John grinned. Sherlock was wound up tighter than John. They’d spent the last few days in a flurry of family visits as each man became better acquainted with various cousins, aunts, uncles and for John, local residents who were friends of Mummy. Late last night they’d gone to bed early and spent their last unmarried hours with just one another. They needed to get away from everyone; all the demands on their attentions were making them crazy. It was barely enough. They’d fallen asleep in each other’s arms and when they woke Sherlock had been whisked away from John while John was washing up. The doctor had expected it so he just sighed and allowed himself to be readied for the wedding.

Good thing Sherlock didn’t need to wait any longer because it was finally time. Greg left to find his seat. Pulling out his mobile John texted Sherlock swiftly, “Together” and sent it off. His mobile chimed right back, “Always” and John grinned again before shutting it off and pocketing it. He was ready.

John squared his shoulders and walked out of the room to take his place in front of the gathered masses. John’s eyes skittered around as he looked at everything. He was underneath a tented pavilion on the main lawn. A small stringed quartet was waiting off to one side. There were two wide rows of guests that seem to stretch on far too long. The tent was white and fluttering lightly; there were billowing drapes of all things, white and blue sheer shimmers of fabric that were caught back gracefully and accented with tall pots of growing things. Everyone was dressed in their ornate best except for John’s army mates who had come in full uniform.

John tried to ignore the fact that every being he’d ever come in contact with seemed to be watching him. Kirk and Victor were out there somewhere as was Molly and Mike. The Holmes side was chock full of expensively dressed and beautiful Holmes as well as a huge slice of dignitaries. John tried not to goggle at his own wedding guests. He wasn’t entirely positive but he was pretty sure members of the Royal family were in attendance.

The Watson side contained every drop of blood John was connected to as well as all his veteran friends. His mother had not been joking when she said she’d notify the entire clan. At a glance John was sure she had gotten everyone on their family tree. Everyone looked proud and a bit teary. His army mates gave him cheeky winks which helped a lot in stiffing John’s spine and keeping his legs steady. John tried to ignore his mother sniffling in the front row with Aunt Grace who wasn’t much better. Victoria was as stately as ever but even she had dangerously reddened eyes and John was glad Mrs. Hudson was with Sherlock at the moment because he couldn’t have dealt with her happy tears either.

Just then Mrs. Hudson sidled into her front row seat. She was sitting with Victoria at Sherlock’s request along with Mycroft and now Greg on the other side of her. Mrs. Hudson’s eyes glittered with tears and she smiled at John. It was too much. John shut his eyes and breathed. He just breathed. He felt that stoic calm wash over him as everything receded and he was left clear and focused. A small polite cough alerted him to the arrival of the graying registrar. John opened his eyes and it all began. The music played.

Sherlock walked up the long aisle at a relaxed pace, not hurried but his normal easy gait. The quartet played something sweet and delicate, John regretted for an instant not knowing much about music. He’d have to ask Sherlock what it was because John wanted to hear it forever. His heart wanted to stutter and stop and John felt his mouth go dry all over again. Sherlock was gorgeous.

His curls were slicked back and miraculously smoothed, his hair almost shone and the small alteration in his appearance forced John to repress a growl of pure animal want. Sherlock’s skin glowed pale and inviting. His suit was fitted so that every long inch of him looked lean and dangerous. John nearly salivated at the way Sherlock was able to take something as banal as walking and turn it into both a challenge and a promise. Their eyes locked and anyone with the gift of sight could see how both men simply connected. Electricity filled the air as the distance between them closed. Sherlock stood in front of John and they looked at each other for a moment before turning and facing the elderly man in front of them.

He spoke and they answered. Time went funny and when John thought back on their vows it was like remembering a series of slides, clear instances of particular moments but all the in-between was lost. John remembered Sherlock’s eyes, how brightly they shone and how John could see every flicker of amber lost in the sea of greens and blues. He recalled how Sherlock’s lips had looked as he shaped the words of their vows, remembered the way it felt when Sherlock’s long cool fingers slid his ring on his finger and how steady his own hand and voice had been as he promised Sherlock everything.

John would always remember the way it felt to kiss Sherlock in front of everyone, moments into their marriage. Their first wedded kiss and it sparked shivers down John’s spine as their lips met in a long but nearly chaste kiss where their lips barely touched and skimmed over the others before pressing tight. The kiss was rich with the promise of more, always more. “I love you.” they said together, both their voices thick with emotion. 

Sherlock’s eyes were bright and John knew it was taking everything for Sherlock not to cry in front of everyone so he pulled him down for one more soothing kiss to give his husband time to collect himself. How could anyone have ever believed that Sherlock was a sociopath when he was a glorious fountain of complex feelings and almost child-like wonder? When Sherlock stood tall again his eyes were still bright but he was smiling easily. “Let’s go John.” Beaming hugely both men linked their hands and turned to face all their witnesses, married at last. The cheer was resounding and Sherlock blushed as John’s mates hooted and catcalled from the back rows.

Time continued to move strangely. It was if John was walking through the world in a bubble containing only Sherlock and John, everyone else pressed up close around them but was unable to intrude on the tiny world where they existed for only each other. The pair moved through the crowds of congratulations, shook the hands of many, and accepted hugs from others but they were aware of only each other. John’s skin buzzed pleasantly wherever Sherlock managed to touch him and John was filled with love for his husband.

There were pictures, lots and lots of pictures. John finally noticed the wandering photographers and discrete videos that were being taken of the entire thing. It wouldn’t surprise John if their mothers made an award winning documentary on how to dominate the world via weddings but it would be a guaranteed best seller to all the potential dictators of the planet. Both men posed with an endless stream of people beneath a heavily flowered arch. 

Sherlock glanced at the flowers indifferently at first and then again sharply. He whispered, “John, all of these blooms are poisonous!” he seemed very pleased and John wouldn’t be surprised if Mycroft had sneakily directed his mother into choosing potentially lethal flora on purpose. Sherlock pointed out azaleas, rhododendrons, daphne, opium poppies, larkspur, delphiniums, lily of the valley, and bleeding heart. There were sweet peas, tulips, hyacinths, chrysanthemums, and aconites. All of them were lovely.

The entire property had been sectioned off and closed to viewing while parts of it were transformed for today. John and Sherlock had been thoroughly threatened by both mothers to NOT PEEK in any way shape or form. Moving vans had come and gone for the last several days as actual teams of people came and went like the tide to prepare. When the photos were finally done with John and Sherlock led the entire huge group back into the house into the hitherto obscured ballroom. John felt like jumping up and down like a schoolboy when he saw the door.

The double doors had been given a façade. Now they were a rich deep blue and had the words “Police Public Call Box” painted neatly on top in a distinctive lettering. The windows were painted on properly and every detail was perfect, “Oh my god! TARDIS doors!” gasped John who felt like a kid as they swung open. They entered a whole new world.

Victoria and Charity smiled proudly as John and Sherlock gaped at the transformed ballroom. The ceiling was covered with sprays of tiny lights that looked like stars and huge inflatable planets to make up the solar system including an inflatable Space Station with a cheeky toy astronaut waving down at them. There were pirate ships projected on the walls and they seemed to be storming the high seas on endless battles. Every table had a sweet smelling and deadly floral centerpiece but there were also clouds of artificial bees suspended on nearly invisible wires that floated over every bouquet.

There was a main table where John and Sherlock would sit during the meal but off to one side was the cake. It was mysteriously curtained off and there was even a security guard watching it to ensure nobody got an early look at it. John had no idea. He barely remembered half the decisions they’d made and none of the ones that had actually happened. It would be a surprise to them as well as the guests.

John and Sherlock were seated and a master of ceremonies began the evening. An extravagant meal of tiny tidbits was served by people dressed in costumes from all of John’s favorite science fiction shows. While they ate they were regaled with stories from guests about how they had met John or Sherlock. Some of the stories were touching and others made one man or the other flush with embarrassment but everyone seemed happy. The food was delicious though John would be hard pressed to name any of it. It all seemed to be tiny little decadent bites of food, all delicious mouthfuls of art. He appreciated it all though since they were interrupted many times by endless toasts. John happily kissed Sherlock on demand and thoroughly enjoyed the faint blush that never left Sherlock’s cheeks throughout the entire meal.

Charity seemed very startled at the stories she heard of John’s days in the army. Her eyes grew large and eventually her expression was mirrored on Victoria’s face as Sherlock’s adventures came to light. Both men were widely respected by a lot of different people and all of them had a few words to say as thanks. Both mothers had been treated to several stories as the days to the wedding had elapsed but most people had saved their best ones for tonight.

They learned about how Sherlock and John met thanks to Mike Stamford. They heard how John and Sherlock had unraveled Moriarty and that both men had suffered such a terrible price for their love. Both women learned how Sherlock could count on John and John could always rely on Sherlock. It had been that way from the moment they had met; everyone who knew them had seen it. Both mothers saw their sons would walk through fire for the other without hesitation, that there was no pain too great to suffer if it helped the other. John was the quiet before Sherlock’s storm.

Stories or not the meal could only last for so long. Charity and Victoria got up and led John and Sherlock to the curtains that hid the wedding cake. Victoria smiled at her sons, “A lot of people put a lot of thought into this, darlings, we hope you like it.” They drew the curtains back.

John and Sherlock were completely stunned and simply had to take the time to look it over carefully. Victoria and Charity had commissioned someone to bring Sherlock and John’s blog to life via a cake and whomever they had hired deserved to be paid twice over. It was gruesome and spectacular.

The cake shaped like a full sized human corpse sitting in a pool of sugar blood. It had been creatively dismembered and piled on three large platters all held up with spun sugar test-tubes with the head face-down on top. It was fairly androgynous; John couldn’t tell if it was supposed to be a man or a woman. All over its body were little scenes made of fondant figurines that played out key moments from John’s blog.

There was a pink suitcase and a semtex vest; there were weapons of every description and bombs as well. There were tiny violins resting on fluffy jumpers and mad-dogs from Baskerville. There were tiny teacups and little take-away containers. A fondant microscope was set up on a small table along with itty bitty petri dishes. There were evidence bags and glass slides made of sugar with fingerprints on them. Tiny faceless foes were creeping out of the hair on the corpse’s head but on the very top were the tiny candy figures of John and Sherlock. John’s figurine was wearing a tiny oatmeal-colored jumper and Sherlock’s was wearing a candy Belstaff complete with blue scarf. They were pressed back to back, both men brandishing a tiny gun in one hand and holding their husband’s hand with the other. They were even wearing their wedding rings. It was BRILLIANT!

There were cheers all around them. After everyone had taken the time to walk past and take a look John and Sherlock took up a rather savage looking knife and together cut one of the feet off. There was a candy toe-tag on it and the body beneath the icing was made of red-velvet cake with cream filling bones. Both John and Sherlock were thrilled. The two men served their close family made up of both mothers, Mycroft, Greg and Mrs. Hudson. Molly got hers next along with Mike and then the servers took over. The cake was dismembered in its entirety and people claimed figures as tokens after John and Sherlock snapped up their candy counterparts.

John found out about the bird-cage or rather, cages. They had been hung along the walls of the ballroom and people were tucking in small envelopes. John realized these were their wedding gifts. John and Sherlock had asked that people give them nothing. They didn’t need anything. If people felt compelled to give them something, John and Sherlock had asked that people donate their gift-money to a large variety of worthy causes, primarily those helping the homeless. Victoria had gotten Anthea to set it up and John rather liked it.

Full of cake, champagne and good food John and Sherlock were not unhappy to be asked to begin the dancing portion of the evening. They weren’t planning on staying the whole night but since they had a chartered plane waiting for them they were on their own schedule. Indeed their bags were already packed and loaded, all they needed to do was show up when they were ready. Now that the ordeal of the vows was behind them and they’d survived their wedding dinner relatively emotionally unscathed both John and Sherlock were a little more interested in staying at their own wedding dance.

The floor cleared and John led Sherlock to the center. They grinned at one another. This was one of the few decisions they did get to make and when they were ready John looked over to the crowd and just said, “All together now.” and the music began. Club lights flickered on and a disco ball descended much to John’s delight. John stepped closer to Sherlock, their smiles identical as Barry White’s “You Are The First, My Last, My Everything” began to play.

Everyone had expected Sherlock and John to begin with a piece of classical music, something meaningful and possibly tenderly haunting. Instead with a burst of color and an irresistible beat they danced and sang softly to one another. The dance floor filled quickly and soon there were lots of happy faces crowding around them as couples joined in during particularly tender lines. The song ended but the music didn’t stop and soon the entire ballroom was filled with happily moving partners. John and Sherlock stayed together, sometimes dancing in a small group with their mothers and once, bravely, with Mycroft and Greg. Kirk of course dragged Victor over but mostly just to steal one last kiss from John so he could watch Sherlock wipe it off one last time and fix it with a possessive kiss of his own, “I’ll never get tired of that.” sighed Kirk happily.

A few hours later when the crowd was energetically getting into the Proclaimers “500 Miles” John and Sherlock kissed their mother’s farewell and slipped out a side door that was cleverly disguised as the Hadron Super Collider. Their driver slid out of the parking lot and took them right to the airport where their chartered flight was waiting for them. Hand in hand John and Sherlock boarded the plane and before long the newlyweds were in the sky and heading to Greece.

 

 

The wedding clothes:

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had no idea how to wed them this time. I had millions of ideas and this is what I settled on. I hope everyone found it satisfying:
> 
> "You're The First, The Last, My Everything"
> 
> My first, my last, my everything  
> And the answer to all my dreams  
> You're my sun, my moon, my guiding star  
> My kind of wonderful, that's what you are
> 
> I know there's only, only one like you  
> There's no way they could have made two  
> You're all I'm living for, your love I'll keep forevermore  
> First, you're the last, my everything
> 
> In you I've found so many things  
> A love so new, only you could bring  
> Can't you see it's you? You make me feel this way  
> You're like a first morning dew on a brand new day
> 
> I see so many ways that I can love you 'til the day I die  
> You're my reality, yet I'm lost in a dream  
> You're the first, the last, my everything
> 
> I know there's only, only one like you  
> There's no way they could have made two  
> Girl, you're my reality, but I'm lost in a dream  
> You're the first, you're the last, my everything
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fcd3XuQwDQQ


	30. Lock and Key

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and John survived their pleasantly surprising wedding and have finally left for their long-awaited honeymoon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end, the last bit, the final sock. I'd like to thank everyone who read this, give extra thanks to everyone who read it more than once, give extra thanks and a huge smooshy hug to those of you who read it obsessively and commented helpfully all the way through it. I LOVED THAT. You really helped keep this story going. A special thanks goes to Madamegoethe because this whole story was inspired by a quick conversation we had about socks. Another very special thanks goes to Ravenwolf36 who did her best to keep me from looking moronic by catching mistakes before they lived too long.

The flight was relatively brief, both men sipping on a delicate wine while they held hands and simply enjoyed the quiet. Today had been a lot and both of them just needed time to breathe and be with one another. Discrete service was provided and soon enough they were landing at a private airfield where a driver and car were waiting for them. Dawn was arriving by the time they settled into their small cottage, the driver providing their key as well as a quick tour of the simple building. A private car was already parked in their temporary driveway, awaiting their leisure. 

Right now though, after the reception, the flight, the long winding drive in the dark both men were weary and almost too tired to think. Despite the fact that they wanted to consummate their marriage as soon as they were alone John and Sherlock once again checked the building over carefully before locking themselves in, washing up and just tumbling into bed to sleep.

When the newlyweds woke Sherlock was smiling and playful, neither man in a hurry but just enjoying simply being with one another. The cottage was small, just a few simple rooms but it was all Sherlock and John needed. The bed was large and very comfortable; they’d slept themselves out before waking to small kisses and gentle caresses.

John was starving so they had a quick meal after spotting the pool. Afterward, they treated themselves to a long playful soak in the large square pool that graced the flagstone patio facing the beach. Promising one another they’d explore their new playground tomorrow, or in two days at the latest they’d jumped in nude and splashed around happily. Still, they could keep away from each other no longer and soon the boyish laughter became soft inviting smiles and teasing glances. Not long after that saw Sherlock being kissed until he was just floating in the pool, unresisting and being held afloat by John who had his feet planted firmly on the tiled floor. Sherlock gamely tried to at least put his arms around John’s shoulders but John was busy right then. With a possessive growl John kissed Sherlock until his arm slipped down, limp and useless as he was completely dominated by his limbic system.

John loved Sherlock like this, helpless and wanting. John never got tired of realizing anew that his touch and his touch alone had this effect on Sherlock. His husband looked so charming in the bright Greek sunlight, his pale skin shining in the light. John decided he’d been out long enough. He didn’t want Sherlock to burn on their very first day and they had a bed to test. Sherlock had a hard time finding his feet and keeping them but John carefully helped him out of the shallow pool to dry him off. As soon as he could he had Sherlock right back in bed where John wanted him.

“I have a gift for you Sherlock.” Sherlock looked dismayed. Clearly he hadn’t thought of getting John a gift of any sort. It hadn’t occurred to the younger man at all and he was clearly chagrined. “It’s sort of a gift for both of us love. Close your eyes.”

Dutifully Sherlock knelt on the bed with his eyes firmly shut. John trusted his sub to keep them that way as he took out two different sized flat boxes. The exteriors were simple matte gray with nothing to indicate where their contents had come from. John set them on the bed in front of Sherlock. “Open your eyes.”

Sherlock looked down at the boxes curiously. Glancing at John’s encouraging face Sherlock looked between the two boxes before deciding to open the smaller of the two. “John! They’re beautiful.” Inside were two beaten silver bracelets. Inside each was inscribed a single word, “Dominant” on one and “Submissive” on the other.

“They’re to wear around. I know you want to wear your collar but you can wear this instead if you like.” Sherlock was so pleased. He pulled John’s out first and gently fitted it to John’s right wrist. John then settled Sherlock’s bracelet also choosing his right wrist so they matched. “There’s one more love.”

With an excited smile Sherlock opened the second flat box. “Oh John, it’s so beautiful. Can I wear it now?” nestled on a bed of scarlet velvet was a silver collar made of flat Y shaped pieces that fit together smoothly. There was a small silver ring on one side and a broad flat locking mechanism on the other side that needed two specialized keys to open. Sherlock’s eyes were huge and happy as he leaned forward so John could fit it neatly around Sherlock’s neck. It clicked shut with a solid snap, “Oh, its heavy but I can barely feel it otherwise. John! Everything is so wonderful! Thank you!”

Sherlock had to jump off the bed and race to the mirror to admire himself. The silver collar and bracelet both shone softly on his skin and Sherlock’s eyes seemed to pick up silvery glints as he examined his appearance. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes were bright just the way John loved them to be. Sherlock looked exotic and sexy. The tall man was practically quivering with happiness from the top of his head all the way down to the tips of his toes. John’s voice was soft and warm, “You look gorgeous.”

Sherlock did. He was entirely naked, adorned only in the silver John had given him, the silver that marked Sherlock as his. Turning on his heel Sherlock faced John and walked slowly, deliberately toward him until he was nearly pressed up against his husband, “Thank you John.” he said huskily before leaning down and kissing John’s mouth softly. John smiled and let Sherlock kiss him slowly while John ran his fingers possessively over the collar. He liked it as much as Sherlock did. The keys slipped onto a sturdy chain that John now wore close around his neck.

“You’re so beautiful Sherlock.” John liked the simplicity of the cottage. It was sparsely decorated, the bedroom nearly bare of ornamentation except for the large bed and simple wardrobe. John didn’t want to be distracted by the décor while he was making love to his new husband. They’d left the doors to the pool open wide so a warm breeze wafted in and joined their caresses as both men began to touch and explore the other.

It was familiar and it was new. Both men had learned their way across the other by now but they were freshly married and somehow it changed everything. Now John felt the need to reclaim his lover all over again and one small kiss at a time John took Sherlock to pieces.

John began with soft kisses, just trailing his mouth over Sherlock’s flesh in a leisurely fashion. They had all the time in the world and John did not want to squander a single moment of his adoration. Sherlock’s skin had different flavors and John wanted to memorize them all, to become the world’s leading expert in all things Sherlock. His entire body had been waxed smooth and John enjoyed the change in textures. His own body hair had regrown with almost magical swiftness and both men were glad of it.

At long last John had covered every reachable part of Sherlock’s entire body and he felt satisfied that Sherlock was sufficiently covered in trace DNA from John. John felt like every single part of himself was hyper-aware of Sherlock’s body, each tiny bit of him attuned to his lover’s responses. Now John had to get the bits he couldn’t reach with his lips. Pausing to give Sherlock another soul devouring kiss John wasted no time and began his assault on Sherlock’s senses.

John took a moment to look over the man laid out so temptingly beneath him. Sherlock’s long limbs were splayed over the bed, his narrow chest heaving as he panted anxiously. His blush ran down to his chest, staining his skin a delicate pink. Sherlock’s thighs were already spread and he seemed to be struggling to keep his hips from thrusting and grinding against John. John smiled.

He leaned forward and employed his tongue softly against Sherlock’s testicles and heard a strangled version of his name escape the detective’s lips. Sherlock tasted like sunshine and water. John nuzzled closer, seeking out the fragrance of his lover, rooting hungrily as his lips and mouth tasted Sherlock with deliberate teases. Sherlock’s voice sounded strangled already. “Dear god, John!”

John had to sit back. Sherlock’s voice had always affected him and right now John was feeling things strongly. With effort he ignored his own aching erection and leaned forward to kiss Sherlock hard. Now Sherlock’s arms wrapped tight around John, his thin body arching up to rub against John’s in deliberate invitation. John loved how Sherlock felt against him, way his spare body writhed against John’s so hungrily. One lovely long leg came up and hooked over John’s shoulder, Sherlock couldn’t be more blatant if he tried.

He tried.

Displaying some rather acrobatic contortionist ability Sherlock wrapped himself around his doctor, spread wide and rutting shamelessly against John. Both men were groaning. “I want to come.” begged Sherlock. John shook his head. “Please John.”

John pulled away, ignoring the needy whine his sub made. Sherlock’s cheeks were now heavily flushed, as was his neck and chest. His nipples stood hard and rocky and his cock was leaking against his flat belly, the shaft dark pink and almost throbbing. Sherlock had his fingers clutching the edges of his pillow and now he was biting his lower lip hard.

The lube was already by the bed, waiting patiently. John was not patient, not anymore. He was generous with its application but not with his preparation and Sherlock was no help, urging John to go faster or to never mind entirely. “No, won’t hurt you…much. Fuck. Okay.” John hoped he didn’t regret this later but suddenly waiting wasn’t an option. He needed to fuck Sherlock, right now.

John slicked himself and pressed against Sherlock’s entrance. Looking up John watched Sherlock’s face crinkle in an expression of pain and pleasure at the same time as John pushed into his barely prepared body, “Yessss.” he rasped as John tried not to just ram home, “Oh god John! It’s…so….much!” Another needy whine escaped Sherlock and then his arms and legs were wrapped tight around John as Sherlock rolled them over deftly.

Sherlock slowly sank himself down as far as he could go and just held himself there. Reaching out a shaky hand he took up the lube and dribbled some onto his fingers. John was breathing carefully, trying not to thrust upward as Sherlock adjusted. The doctor was surprised to see Sherlock bend back a bit and felt him reach between John’s thighs which he spread obligingly. Somehow Sherlock managed to grind down even further and just rocked slightly, his eyes closed as his fingers swirled and pressed inward, penetrating John carefully.

Sherlock took his time, lifting his hips occasionally and groaning deeply each time. John was beginning to make soft little sounds as well. Sherlock’s fingers were long and talented, his ass was fitted tightly around John’s cock and it was all so lovely. Sherlock worked until John was open and yearning. Lifting himself off carefully Sherlock quickly moved himself until he was kneeling between John’s open thighs.

Sherlock wasn’t patient. He drove in, his long narrow cock plowing deep into John’s body. With a shout John’s head jerked back and he heard Sherlock grunt as his shoved himself balls deep into John. This was different. They’d never switched part-way through before but John wasn’t objecting. It was painfully delicious, rough and fervent. Both men felt the blood course rapidly through their veins as their passion for one another soared.

Sherlock was aggressive but skillfully so. He had quickly learned what John most enjoyed and began to rock his hips deep and slow, snapping his hips at the last to watch John’s face as he gasped with pleasured shocks. Sherlock leaned down and kissed the gasps from John’s lips before slowing down to a smooth undulating and continuous roll. “You’re gorgeous John. So lovely, I can’t bear to look away. You’re so warm, like sunshine and light. You make me feel so good John, happy and right now I’m very happy. This gets better and better every time.”

John let his hands roam over Sherlock who kissed him over and over again as he worked himself in and out of John’s body. When his hands finally reached Sherlock lush behind he clutched at the firm flesh and gripped tight. He wanted it. John pulled away from Sherlock slowly and deliberately. Biting Sherlock’s lower lip just a bit harder than necessary John arranged Sherlock on his stomach, his hips at the edge of the bed but his thighs spread wide and low.

John had to stand there and just look for a moment. Sherlock’s body was open and enticing. Slicking himself anew John stepped forward and pushed in. Sherlock’s groan was loud and appreciative so John braced his hands, one on each of Sherlock’s hips and began to fuck him hard and steady. God John wanted to come with every enthusiastic thrust. Sherlock kept moaning and his voice was so ragged, so deep that John could feel the vibration from it in his bones.

John leaned forward and nipped at Sherlock’s back, careful not to mark him. How had he gotten so lucky? How had he landed such a sexy, gorgeous, brilliant, devilish morsel like Sherlock? Look at the curve of his back, the length of his arms and legs. Look at the sheen of his skin, dewy and soft as silk. People could write epic poems about Sherlock’s glorious ass and look at John, balls deep in it with an open invitation to continue to do so for eternity.

John’s moans were now matching Sherlock’s. His tight passage gripped him and Sherlock’s hips rutted into the sheets below him as he cried out. John was ready, he needed to come. His balls had drawn up and even though he also wanted to fuck Sherlock for hours it just wasn’t happening. He wasn’t sure if Sherlock was ready. Fireworks were going off behind John’s eyes. Sherlock’s back was arched and he was almost lifting himself up on his elbows as he pushed back, meeting John’s now frantic thrusts eagerly.

John reached out an unsteady hand, tangled them in Sherlock’s raven curls and tugged lightly. Sherlock’s cry was instant and loud. His whole long lithe body writhed and twisted beneath John as he came in shuddering thrusts. John hung onto Sherlock’s hips with both hands now and pressed himself deep to empty himself.

Everything went fuzzy for a few minutes. All John could feel was his cock throbbing and pulsing, his nerve endings sizzling and burning up as his eyes refused to take in any more data and his ears seemed to stop up for a second. He thrust blindly, his cries unstifled as he seemed to come and come and come. John slumped forward barely able to cling to Sherlock who was now hanging off the bed as much as John was. They slithered to the floor in a sweaty heap and just lay there on a small area carpet and panted.

After a few minutes Sherlock giggled and then John did too. They splayed themselves out on the floor and just laughed and laughed, “You fucked me right off the bed. Well done John.” Sherlock’s laughter eventually faded away and he just lay there looking perfectly at ease sprawled on his back. A few minutes more saw them fit enough to crawl weakly up onto the mattress and pillows, both men smiling softly in contentment. Sherlock’s eyes closed slowly but he didn’t seem to be sleeping, “Let’s go for a walk John.”

It took long minutes more but eventually they were able to get up, shower properly and dress in light cotton clothes but only after Sherlock was coated head to toe with sun-block. He complained the entire time, “Sherlock you haven’t got one molecule of melanin in your skin or if you do it’s been hiding in plain sight your entire existence. I don’t want you burned to a crisp after only a short walk!” John regretted not getting his lover a wide-brim hat, as if Sherlock would consent to wear such a thing. He made do with sunglasses.

Sherlock pushed his feet into a pair of sandals as well and just looked at John’s expression, “We’re walking on sand John. It’s appropriate.” John had a pair of sandals waiting for him too and he put them on. They felt strange, too light and exposed more of his feet than he was accustomed to. Still the rocks were sharp wherever the sand disappeared so John and Sherlock followed a sandy path down to a crescent shaped beach made of white sand. John loved it. They were completely isolated with their own small bay. Boats could approach but there wasn’t even a dock to welcome anyone to bother. Tall white cliffs rose on either end of their piece of water and cut off sight of the beach from everywhere except the head of the trail they were on. It was perfect!

Birds wheeled overhead and John enjoyed the gentle sound of the waves as they shushed over the sands. Sherlock was happy, shucking his trousers and shirt as soon as John gave up trying to keep him covered. “I don’t want tan lines. On either of us.” Sherlock eyed John’s clothes meaningfully until John shed his clothes as well. It was early in the evening now and the water was tranquil and warm. They splashed around a bit but were mostly content to wade around looking at interesting sea-life. John found he rather enjoyed frolicking naked in the water. He’d never done it before but Sherlock looked very comfortable in just his skin.

Sherlock was good at floating. He laid his impossibly long body on the water and just bobbed there, his hands behind his head to pillow them and floated on the water like curly-haired seaweed. He was watching the birds flock overhead, their aerobatic dances filled with enthusiasm. John paddled around, just enjoying the gentle warmth and complete lack of stress. Both men had needed exactly this, just some peace, some simple time to just be with one another. It was perfect.

The days that passed were filled with simple beauties. Their kitchen was well stocked by a steward who came and went after lunch every single day. All they needed to do was leave a list on the counter of what they needed and it was provided for. Sherlock took John on personally guided tours of one attraction after another, both men enjoying day trips here and there all over the country. Sherlock chose their clothes every day and made sure their pants and socks matched properly. 

Sherlock loved Greece, loved pointing out how many ancient precepts were still firmly embedded in the contemporary world. John learned about art and science, philosophy and astronomy. Sherlock had re-learned a lot about the solar system and told John about all the ancient thinkers who had helped Sherlock become reacquainted with the basic building blocks of current knowledge. In between long activity filled days were lust filled nights where John and Sherlock took turns sating their appetites for one another. Sherlock never took his bracelet off and wore his collar whenever they were in the house. He loved it and so did John.

They did an overnight trip. By now Sherlock was a warm honey brown all over and wore long red swim trunks to a public beach with John who wore red swim pants. They had commandeered one of the available large umbrellas to hunker down under and enjoyed a lunch purchased from a small beach vendor who also sold icy cold drinks. Sherlock was having fun deducing tourists and John searched the crowds for targets, both men giggling away as Sherlock began to make up wildly fantastical stories for each of them. Finally John had to make him stop; his stomach was hurting from laughing too much, “You’re so good at that. I almost couldn’t breathe!” John kissed his husband enthusiastically and flopped back down on his towel to giggle a bit more. When he’d settled a bit he looked over at Sherlock, “Victor told me that you didn’t understand humor.”

Sherlock looked down at John quizzically. “I suppose I don’t. I am uninterested in what passes for comedy in most instances, I seldom find jokes amusing or interesting. I suppose I wasn’t really one for laughing back then. You make me laugh though. You’re amusing. The things that make you laugh are intriguing.” Sherlock stopped talking for a minute, clearly collecting his thoughts. “Until I met you John there were whole parts of me that have never been called into being, parts of me I had no idea were inside but you woke all of them up. I wasn’t properly alive until I met you, I existed but I wasn’t living. I’m alive now and it’s because you chose to share a flat with a man you’d only known for a minute.”

John sat up and looked back at Sherlock, “I guess it works both ways then Sherlock. If we’d met when we were younger can you even imagine what life might have been like? I might never have joined the army, not with the kind of excitement you provide with The Work.”

“I might never have started doing The Work if I hadn’t become a drug addict though. If I’d met you when we were younger that would never have happened.” John felt strange all of a sudden, what if all those things had not happened and he and Sherlock had spent decades with one another instead of mere years. Sherlock wouldn’t have the dreadful memories his addiction had provided him with, John’s shoulder wouldn’t be permanently damaged; neither man would have to worry about screams in the night as their dark memories surfaced. Or worse yet! What if they’d never met? John shook his head, he was being foolish.

“Nah, we would have done The Work no matter how we started out. I bet you were an awkward teen, all spots and elbows.” Sherlock rolled his eyes and poked John with a bony finger. “If we’d met as children we would have been detecting between classes. I bet you anything.”

Sherlock laughed as he imagined what John must have looked like as a teen then giggled, “What if we were the same age and met as babies?”

“We’d be detecting in the crib. ‘The Mysterious Case of the Missing Formula.’ only we’d be looking for a bottle and not a government secret.” Sherlock laughed out loud at the assurance in John’s voice that they’d work together no matter what. John reached over and took Sherlock’s hand in his as they observed the crowds around them again, “You’ll always be my favorite puzzle Sherlock.”

Sherlock seemed very pleased to be called a puzzle and went back to deducing tourists though in a factual way which John enjoyed just as much. They held hands loosely; John laid out on his towel while Sherlock sat cross-legged beside him, both of them comfortable and at ease. Sherlock was happy, his face was relaxed and his eyes were merry. John felt a throb of love that made his chest almost ache when he saw how completely content his husband was. Sherlock wasn’t fidgeting nervously, or playing a role to get through the situation, or hiding in his mind palace to anxiously try to make sense of things. He was just sitting and looking at the world unafraid. It was one of the most beautiful things John had ever seen and he treated himself to a good long stare. Sherlock looked down at John, “Let’s go back to the hotel.”

John didn’t argue. He just got up, shook out his towel and followed Sherlock’s gorgeous behind all the way back to the room they had rented for the night. Tomorrow they would join a small tour group for a day-long historical review of various sites and after that they would return to their bit of quiet. John was content.

As soon as the door shut behind John Sherlock sank to his knees and bared his neck. Wordlessly John retrieved the silver collar Sherlock had grown to love so much and locked it on with a solid double click. Sherlock then leaned forward, pressed his face to John’s stomach and wrapped his long arms around his hips, holding him tightly, “I’d never want to be anywhere else but by your side John. I want to tie myself to you in every way possible so that no one can ever part us.”

John ran his fingers through Sherlock’s hair, gently petting his husband as he smiled down at him, “I’d never be happy without you Sherlock. I’d never let you go, not without a fight.” John tugged Sherlock to his feet and smiled up at his husband, loving the brightness of his eyes, the quirk of a smile at the corner of his lips. This was the most glorious person in the entire world and he loved John. John would never be unmindful at what a rare and precious gift that was, vowing to never let his lover go unappreciated. “You are mine Sherlock. You’ll never be anyone else’s. You wear my ring, wear my tokens and if there were any other way I could show the world how very mine you are I would do it. I’ll take you any way I can get you but I’ll never let go. Never. Together, right?”

“Always John.” Sherlock kissed John and that never-ending spark between them grew hot once more. This was who they were, lock and key, Dom and sub, shelter and storm. It would never matter where they were or what they did they’d always find one another. They’d work together, they’d love together. Each man danced to his own tune but they still moved in harmony with one another, brought each other both peace and a good fight. They balanced each other out and filled in all the bits that were missing.

Tonight they would love and tomorrow they’d go out. Maybe it would be a good day or maybe trouble would find them once more. It didn’t matter. John knew that no matter what he and Sherlock could get through anything together. New opportunities lay in front of them, new dangers and even more desperate foes. John would love his mad scientist as hard as he could during all the in-between moments their chaotic life gave them, and Sherlock would love him back. It was more than enough.

[want the collar....go here](http://www.extremerestraints.com/collars_12/locking-watch-band-neck-collar--medium_2184.html)

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I miss it already. See you all in my other fics <3

**Author's Note:**

> Tags are updated regularly as the story evolves.


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